Dark Days in December

Tears of grief

I wail

I spit upon broken promises, past and future

Alone

Worn out from the game

Enraged at it all

But more so at myself

Alone

Day after day after day

Month after month after month

No end in sight

Alone

So, I quit

No more will I apply the band aids

No more will I try "the next thing"

Alone 

I awake the following day

A shield encases my heart

Now into its death

Alone

I later rouse my body 

To clothe itself, layer upon layer

Laborious labor to keep warm in the elements

Alone

I must gas up Sir Edward 

For my appointment tomorrow

Maybe the outing will help me

Alone

As I drive the back route out of Rolling Hills

I witness, right next to the street in a yard

Eight sacred black vultures

And a dead raccoon 

Once again, nature speaks to me

These sacred winged creatures have come 

To feed upon the carrion

Within my broken, deadened heart

For a moment

I feel seen

No longer 

Alone