Ode To Despair

Whence, heart, the journey into the black pit?
The night stretches before me, dark and wild
and flecked with the iron pyrite of futile hope.

My blackbird died tonight.

June swallowed the last shards of me,
now they cut with the dead and frozen sunlight of Oncewas.
I learned solitude at the iron hand of error.
The blue wind blows at the cracked windows
of my garret... the smell of whiskey
drifts up to sting me
from my fingernails.
The blood in my wrists burns to be free.
The heart in my bosom breaks with the weight
of cursed and lonely brilliance.
Tonight, another prostitute.


(This poem was also posted on my LJ.)