Each moment’s an agony: Vague, indecisive, filled, Like cotton in a wound With self-abnegation. My thoughts fester, without Care, without direction— A viscous ooze tucked Within damp crevices. This is not self-pity, Nor bragging as complaint— I live in the landscapes Which surround me today. Where I’ve come to stand Is where I must begin. … Continue reading Even in the Dark