Dark Places I Go

Fear is a hunt on a spinning carousel;
Faceless, rabid dogs pursue me in a circle;
I blindly run...never ending.

Panic shrieks its warning voice
At a mound of soiled, unfinished, and unmade things.
The clock rattles with its fierce ticking.

Worry itches;
Scratched, it bleeds and festers;
It can't be relieved, so it must be ignored.

Frustration is a room full of doors leading nowhere;
And, waxed fruit.

Remorse is displayed in a guilt-gilded frame;
A mosaic of "could have been" and "used to be" hangs nearby.

Anger oozes its hot, red lava all around;
Those who escape are seared by its blowing ashes.

Grief is over a cliff...loss pushes me over;
Falling with my stomach in my throat...never ending.

Depression is a dark, cavernous place;
Stranded here I become blind.
The light at the end eludes me now.

Loneliness echoes against the closed drapes;
It screams with many voices.
It reaches for the doorknob with a shaking hand...