Album: Blame & Aging
I find myself followed by the unassailable specter of depression:
a mournful black dog that sits beside me always, staring.
And like having a scarf wrapped too tight about my throat,
my wrists bound behind my back I lay in thralldom.
To be tossed into a river, gripped by the current
and choking for want of air (and movement, and mirth…)
I lay thus entombed
in sheets
of fabric
and coral, ever
wondering when
my bonds shall
be cut loose.
Be a bridge
unto my weeping
so I can cross
over this valley
without being snared
by the machinations
of my mind
and weary heart.
For a maiden sits upon my chest and I know not how to move her.