It won’t be as black
as my umbrella I forgot
the weather I carried around me.
My eye bags were like cumulus cloud
hanging low, grey and heavy
moving slow hovering thoughts
you won’t know what I am trying
to get over underneath. I expect
rain showers drop down its pellets.
And the prevailing wind will keep
nagging my peace of thunderstorms
and lightning, intermittently
piercing montages of grief
into the continuity of my sleep.
I had lost track where the wind vane
points a direction towards depression.
I forgot how to regulate the flow
of the emotional flash flood I contain.
And here I am with my lonely forecasts.
The weather disturbance I blame
when the sun won’t smile up
on me, again.
Solitude Amidst the Maddening Crowd
