Ah, the Tar Pit
that beast night
all encompassing night
that binds lids to questing eyes
a totality of darkness
back to the dark
soothing black
back to the thump thump thump of the heart
and distant roar of rushing blood
The Tar pit
it binds and winds flat
but the very absence of light
is blessed immobility
removing the torment of choice
for without that brazen blaze
all the dimished objects of strife
flayed to bone on bare blown hills
are hid
all the dust
and chips
all the tight twists of pain
are smothered
in this hot sticky velvet
Oh, if these mutterless moments
this surcease
from buffet and wail
could but carry me through
the stab and slice of hours
but this is denied
for darkness becomes a glove of hunger
and I lay on my bed of pain
every pore a sharp prickle
the sheets a damp leaden tangle
holding me to place
the warm moment of descent and relief
is gone
(anon)