Against the Dark
in the center
of my garden of thought
is an
inky black pool
an obsidian mirror that ripples
and grows
with each
and every
hurt, pain, and torment I endure
circling the pool
my verdant hopes
my violaceous loves
my carmine furies -
their blooms crawl, intertwine, creep
in a mass of emotion and impulse
pushing ever against the center
where my garden meets that
ebony pond;
a barren desolate blight
of decay and hopelessness
the vivid chromaticity of my
emotion
in perpetual campaign against
the void
that forever
threatens to
consume
me