The dying light

The literati mafia

I dropped out of college when I was 24
and went straight to the abyss,
I’ve spent six years there,
darker than the belly of Jonah’s whale,

I’ve fought and lost, I’ve fought and lost,
I’ve fought and lost.

A mind fallen into utter despair
like a trunk of rich wood now
riddled with termites,
intrusive thoughts, chaos, hallucinations
like a gaudy show of theatrics,
garish demons dancing to cymbals clanging,
a lurid parade of the macabre,
knives draped in white diaphanous silks,
pots broken, milk spilling,
mood swings – left, right, up, down,
shifting gears trying to get this
locomotive back in control,
unable, unqualified to hold on
to undying hope.

And so, I started a blog last year,
‘Fighting the dying light,’ after
Dylan Thomas’s famous villanelle,
but my lines have left me,
just like my lungs now corroded,
my liver now diseased,
popping a pill, a day…

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