roshan - perfecting his art

The dark is cold and near.

Much closer than I would have liked,

It leers at me through the window,

Through the frost-covered one,

And vein-like cracks appear in the air between

Me and the lonely dark.


The moon is no cure,

For the night’s death-like pallor,

Sometimes even adding to its death-like pallor,

And death is at home, everywhere in the dark.

And death is so close, anywhere in the dark.


You came to give me comfort,

And yet you lie there in someone else’s thoughts,

Writhing in pleasure, in somebody else’s thoughts.

Two feet away, yet in another’s thoughts.

And I extend my arm to touch your bare neck,

But to intrude into your thoughts would

Make me distraught.


The wind howls now, whistling in my

Ears.

It whispers like it’s passed through hell.

I would if I could, to bleed your heart,

Lift up hell and push it into heaven.

And let you live in the space between,

Where no one can see good or bad,

But they will see more bad than good.


And there you will suffer,

As I have suffered here- flee-er of

Thoughts, digger of shame,

Making me fall into an unending pit,

That cannot be filled.