Deeper than Dark
   Darker than Hurt
   Sometimes my heart misses a beat
    and on comes the pit
      I fall all the way
        to within my soul
          I fall all the way
            to that black hole.

   And the pain in my heart
   'comes the pain in my chest
   and I cry if I need to
   and I cry 'cause I must.

   For in those times I feel...
     too much
       too bad
         too full
           and I feel,
           broken.

   Broken on the wheel,
   dead in the pit,
   rotting in the sun,
   the stench of death
   is mine isn't it?

   The old damn clock
   is once again unsprung.
     For though I can point
     to any degree
       to reasons,
          excuses,
          causes
          you see,
            the thing is not that
            the thing is not this
            but part of my meaning
            my being
            of me...

            ...do you see?

My eccentric orbit follows dark star
coming close to destruction (maybe)
then coasting away
t'ward far arc
          to slow
          'til I come,
          once again
          around
          to swing oh so close,
          to this dark star's place.

   And it's happened before
   and it's happening now
   and I know
   it'll happen again.

   For I see all the starkness
   in vivid detail
   all clarity wasted
   and
   for this there's no fail.

   And this bit of doggerel
     is meant but to help
       put into perspective
         all hurt and pain
           all things
              that
                still
                  suffer
                    my
                      brain.

   How's rhyming achieve this?
     Maybe, perhaps not.
       How can I stand it
         All oppressive discord
           in my thinking and doing
             and being
               and feeling
                 and hurting
                   again.

   And still am I waiting for what,
     do I ask?
     For what do I know?
     So I'll stop writing
     and 'stead
     just go.

   No.

   No. I can't.

   No matter what all the pain
   or the tension of hurt
   that I feel in this brain.

   Tried that before.

   Know it won't do.

   So it's back to the pills that keep me just sane.
   Back on those pills I just shouldn't need (but do).

   And in this time and at this point
     perhaps all that matters
       if I'm right
         is to wait.

   For this will pass.

   For it will go.

   All these this -- I know.

   It's been here before
   and will come again.

   This black gravity,
        arc of non-kindness
        oppressive stink
        and self destructive thought
        at depression's end.