The Deepest Dark

the deepest dark lies within our hearts

we laugh, we smile, bear and grin it

are we daring enough to really bare it

 

fear versus apathy

both trying to overtake me

it’s like the lights are out but I’m roaming around

trying to sort the universe out

 

maybe this is too internalized

I need hollowed out so I don’t feel

knock the walls down bust the windows out

it’s hard to change what you don’t understand

 

get the keys, fly down the highway

the pounding waves of the surging storm

–get over it, just move on–

the only moment of silence comes when driving under the bridge

the absence of sound, the separation from the constant roar,

the forgetting of the dark all around,

is bliss…

–just be happy–

addiction begins

 

But I can hardly sit still. I keep fidgeting, crossing one leg and then the other. I feel like I could throw off sparks, or break a window–maybe rearrange all the furniture.”
― Raymond Carver

Depression – that limp word for the storm of black panic and half-demented malfunction – had over the years worked itself out in Charlotte’s life in a curious pattern. Its onset was often imperceptible: like an assiduous housekeeper locking up a rambling mansion, it noiselessly went about and turned off, one by one, the mind’s thousand small accesses to pleasure.”
Sebastian Faulks

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