Trough

Damn it all.

It creeps into your soul.
Slowly…then faster.
It coils around a fibre – yours
Thick coils, heavy with regret
Pulling you down.
The faint hint of a proud surmount crumbles
To Dirt.
Absolute darkness hurled over the flickering glow
Of sweet hopeful anticipation.
Throttled.
Murdered.
Cold. Bitter. Hurting. Raw…
Just a few moments now…
Wait
You will watch it break:
The stinging rope…or your nerve?

Damn this gloom. Damn this wretchedness.
Oh, what the heck... damn it all, and be done with it!!