On dread - in my words

There are days

when emptiness

fills everything

with stifling heaviness -

it draws the curtains

shuts you in

and creeps all over

the walls

the floors

the doors.

Soon

it has taken over

and

proceeds to the next endeavour:

to cover

skin

hair

in a thick film

of viscous dark

which seeps in

soaking into each cell.

Not much resistance

is encountered along the way

no cell wall thick enough

to withstand its pressure:

it flows in rapidly

gathering speed

gaining round

till not even the deepest cell

is left untouched.

It is then

that everything sinks

the stars seem cursed

the balmy air chokes

beauty is too painful to be borne.

These are the days

when the longing

has been so longstanding

alone

in its futility

that it recoils in terror

like a snake

awoken from its trance.

It slithers into a dark corner

refusing to open its eyes.

These are the days

when deaths beckon

coming forward in various forms

deaths of lightness

deaths of love

deaths of the senses.