22 May 2018

black dog blues

this is not a poem
this is a rant

this is a rant
about the black dog
the black dog that 
drags me down
into the mud

this damn dog
has me in a death grip
jaws locked tight
neither of us knows 
how to let go

on some days 
I can dance 
on the surface
of this mud that
must own me

and on some days
I can somehow 
stay on top
even when the ground
keeps giving way

on some days, the light, 
struggling, 
breaks in
when the fog won't lift 
or darkness ease

but most days,
most days,
are suffocating
in this sludge

this damn dog 
drags me down

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