Fuck Sylvia Plath

Happiness is a Bad Poem

Darkness laps at the edges of my mind.
The slosh of despair is unrelenting.

Still...

The levees are holding.

Sorrow spills over, now and then,
a slow trickle
that begins to puddle.

Muddy and thick
on this side of death.

- - - - -

The Absence has its way of appealing:
Avoid the muck
Forget the mess
Erase the memory
Embrace the madness

I dare not dip my toes, my nose,
into that oblivion again.

I don’t tread well
and cannot swim.

- - - - -

It would be foolish to wade
into the tide…

…tried that before
and been swept away.

Innocuous to many
is dangerous for me.

Could I return from the sea of shadows?
Would I even want to?

I know the answer.
That is why I worry.

- - - - -

I shouldn’t tarry here
much longer.

That word.
Tarry.

I smile.
Though glum, I still enjoy words.

I cannot say the same
for the company of others.

I’m very lonely.
And very harsh.

While insight is dim, there’s still a spark.
I’ll stoke it and trudge away from these edges.

Once more.

Posted June 1, 2007 08:04 AM