Ordinary Nevermore


“Take thy beak from out my heart and take thy form from off my door.”

Edgar Allan Poe

Raven woods grow wild in bump
in the night madness jungles.
Dig in to downer licorice moods.

Voices whisper
heart of darkness shadows
no one person can catch.

Your jet haired cousin echoes
The beckon of an evil friend
you swear betrayed you.

Arguments pull you into the pit,
swing you on a pendulum ride,
drop you into claustrophobic space.

The time is midnight at high noon.
Pray for the crowd in your mind to go away.
Call to no one on a rotary telephone.

Reach for the dusty black book,
the little gray pill.
Wear noise canceling headphones

unattached to an iPod.
Pull down the blinds.
Clutch your cloak of soot.

Reread the DSM.
Continue to wait. Eat crow. Hope that
demons know you’ll never be happy in hell.

~ by dianeklammer on February 20, 2013.

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