I DIDN'T THINK I COULD DO.

I didn't think I could do what was supposed to be done,

clock into work and sit in the shadows for a half an hour,

then reemerge, like hanging from the rooftop singing,

in a half an hour I will be gone, I will be dead.

The shadows do nothing to comfort me but in my darkest

hours I am comforted by god and the uncomfortable

feeling on the back of my neck has drifted away into

oblivion, and I am here and I am there and I am everywhere,

I walk home in the pouring rain, everything looking sleek

and wet from the storm previous. It had stopped raining then.

I shake my umbrella dry at the door and go inside, then I

sit down in my chair and tap the desk, I tap the chair along with it,

this feeling of dark, dank coldness in my bones. I am resting now,

resting while sitting in a chair, resting in the darkest dark,

with no light on and the cat scurrying about somewhere, afraid

of the dark, hiding like I want to hide amidst the battle that is

my life, amiss the light that is not mine. I want to hide, but where?
Where is a good place to hide when your world is crashing around

you and there's nowhere to go, no place to turn to except down,

down into a dark tunnel that turns out to be a drug tunnel,

and you wish you could take the drugs but do not.