---

“You haven’t done anything with your life.”

---

grasping once more

at bedecked self-worth

but the grip

slips

oil slicks

betwixt

mental palm and moral fingertips;

should i show my hand?

stick or twist?

---

“What is wrong with you?”

---

dark matter

is my only ally

when faced with terror

because

i can’t do anything else

can i?

hollow laughter

leaves enough space

to crawl inside and wear;

a straitjacket of cajolery

sad eyes

---

“You could have done so much better.”

---

this tenebrous crow

a constant reminder

cawing – slow

perched atop

my shoulder

peering deep into my soul;

cavernous hole

to cavernous hole

---

“Such a waste.”

---