sundays are always
my least favorite night
the day is great
the kids bring a light
that is quickly extinguished
the moment the door shuts
and the silence
reasserts its dominance
over my depression
with a gleeful swarming

the fucking holidays
are right around the corner
and the loneliness
threatens to end me
all i feel is the anxiety
of my many failures
crashing down around me
my inability to express
myself combined with the
inability to be heard
leaves a strangling sob
frozen in my throat

writing writing writing
spilling my guts out in
inky dismay to darken
the æther with my cracked
countenance of bitterly
shed tears in a storm of
manic prose that doesn’t
begin to shine a true
expression on being utterly
broken by the world itself
in fractured ley lines
thrumming with negative
bolts of electrified angst

just a goddamned old fool
with nothing to hold onto
no happier tomorrow to
get me through another of
these cyclical disasters
screaming screaming screaming
yet unheard unseen unreal
a tattered collection of
threadbare odes to pain
strung over the doorway
in a misery of nothingness
before the fresh week of
incessant hells begins anew