all souls/

©2021 Michael Raven

Dark night of the soul.

Gunshots in the night… What has this neighborhood become? Is it wrong to be disappointed they weren’t for me?

Cut my cancerous heart out with a dull, rusted blade. While others rage, I feel dismay and think of wandering out into the frost-nipped air, welcome exposure, curl up against the old oak tree, shiver and shake until the cold turns warm.

I could sleep then. Sleep and dream. I tire of being awake. Hiding my madness in verse. Hiding the scenes the dreams the face without eyes the screaming the flames the snot running down you’re crying face when I touch you the first time.

It hurts. You know this. I know this. We know I ache with ages of frustrated fixations.

Perhaps you do too.

I want to sever these other threads and find a way home to you. But, what would you do?

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