Failure

“What do you see when the darkness comes?”

such a haunting question for such a simple conversation.

“I see the demons of dreams long dead,” I say.

He looks at me, through me, as if he could shun

the abomination in front of him.  Such an arcane answer

to such a generic question.  If this long standing pun

would just end now, that would be better.  However

we choose to let it continue on and now has begun

to grow stale.  I wish that this inane banter would fucking stop!

I know a way I could make it stop, but I don’t have a gun

with me just this moment.  Besides public suicide

is frowned upon.  There seems to be an aversion

to having brain matter splayed on the walls.  If

I could just answer with “I see an intrusion

of the darkness that I call home!”  Shouting this

I throw my fists up screaming to those who listen

that this is not what I had planned.  “I see all the times

when I could have made you proud.”  It’s time to run.

The fear of failure that has caught up with me

and now threatens to choke out the light of the sun.

I look him square in the eyes, cornea’s ablaze with fire,

“Now my friend, this is the end.  Now, we are done.”

© 2015 p.hill