Des Profundis

past nightfall and midnight
i cast my hook, my BAIT
no phantom mouth comes to
eat my worm and die
i wait
LATE IS THE TIME
i sit, i'm lost,

sleep overtakes me and i keel over, mate
with its tentacles, foamy scaly blanks
in the depths of hell glows a were-light
each night, each sight
by weeds of indulgence
or forced abstinence it blights
waters plights
its troth with my words and fires
unwont-
i do not know where the path lies
i tire
till morn comes and i do wake and bathe
emerge finally at least not wan not pale
wake wretch each morn
the dawn does harbinger
some new thing good or ill for all the world
where nothing's certain there is hope of good
i understand why, now, He first made light.