so tired
i am unsure
where you are
in this night.
it is cold
it is dark
like
a wet blanket.
i am scared
by the things
inside
of my head.
maybe
i’d be
better off
dead.
suicide?
no
i will fade
and fray
and the fabric
of my soul
will lose
its vibrance
and i will
cut it
into pieces
and sell the pieces
to the merchants
standing along the
path
demanding
to be heard
blocking the road
yelling
about useless
remedies and
trinkets
that do not
bring good luck.
they are false
and i
am tired.
where are you
in this
tangible
wet
darkness?
