Self-flagellating fairies and mind-numbing nymphs
Blocked my brain from accessing Arcadia
Brushed it instead with acute anhedonia
And ambient apathy
I set foot under the echoed eclipse to
Reclaim my mind’s radiant array—
Only to be blasted back to blight
By bloodthirsty terrors of the twilight
Riddle me this—
If you plant a seed in a chamber of gloom
Will it rise to the ceiling or succumb to its doom?
If you tear off the flesh, tendons, muscles and ligaments,
Are you left with a skeleton with figments
Of the form it once was?
Or is it merely a lost cause?
Perhaps— the skeleton, stripped and stark
Holds the blueprint to ignite the spark
The spark that when I bled-
It all but fled my
Threadbare, hollow heart