—I SHOULD TELL YOU, I BLEW THE CANDLE OUT JUST TO GET BACK IN

 

 

PHQ-9

 

i keep pretending

to be myself

pulling blank

photos off the shelf

only the moon

knows the truth

she’s a sharp shylock

always cutting me down

like infested lumber

assured yet aloof

so i’m having

another mini-concert

in this shake-less room

trying to shed

the dread

and gloom

can’t get

the lyrics right

when there’s only

a few strips of

dark light left

think I’ll sing off-key

count to one twenty-three

warble a prayer

of some sort

make it sincere

then cut it short

no one needs

a myth they

can’t use

i caught the stars

but dropped them

on the ground

watched them

fall and hit

without a sound

i can’t make it

right or better

but i can sure  

turn things sour

which i’ve done   

these last few hours

i could blame it

on my lack of grip

or the apocalypse

but that wouldn’t

be fair