Scared of the Dark

A trio of poems on not knowing

Scared of the Dark

I’m scared of the dark.

Not the monsters under the bed, nor the ghoul in the closet.

Not the scent of the undead, nor the ax murderer’s blade.

Just the fool in the sheets

and his mind’s unexplored parts.

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Who, What, When, Where, Why

Who are you?

Are you the thing they say? Do you even want to be?

Are you the thing you say? Do you even want to be?

Time provides no further clue, 

frustrating the passivity I’ve taken towards me

What happened can’t be touched

Can’t be grasped

Only gasped

The answer an illusion, the search for it a crutch

When you become an adult, dreams and nightmares become blurred

Once playful fantasy, now longing unfilled

The night, with its possibility, constricted by time

Its dreams and its nightmares beginning to rhyme

Where does the journey end but the grave

Fleeing from death makes man a slave

The immortal desire is but a worthless salve

But I embraced beyond and found a lifelong pal

Why is a key. It opens the door.

But is the end the greatest fear, or more?

---

Don’t Think The Thought

Bright and blue and ending the night,

when I wake, I see its light.

I grasp it faster every day,

quickly helping my mind run away.

But I give myself no fault,

because it helps me not think The Thought.

While no moment or space is still, 

I know silence is the far more bitter pill. 

Plug my ears to trap the mind,

and repeat this playlist for the one millionth time. 

“On Repeat” is my mental blood clot,

that helps ensure I don’t think The Thought. 

Movement is life, a celebration of the human machine.

But without inner peace, it is a temporary dream. 

No matter the joy of the play in the park, 

All roads lead me home to my bed in the dark. 

Despite my resistance, I lie in my cot.

I have no choice. I must dwell on The Thought.