Bleeding at Two AM

It’s the middle of the night and

I sit in darkness, wide awake,

Memory plagued, hostage held,

Amid shadows clinging,

Glimpses of some long passed day gone by;

Of another way absent long ancient this moment’s choice

But just an hour it seems to be away,

Amid the fringes where emptiness is known to run,

And sitting cloaked in purest dark I,

Bottled scotch close at hand,

Mind ablaze in places long now dead

Lost in visions, light soft glowing

In passing’s deep darkness led.

Mental torture fed long before the dawn

Brought boldly cold and lifeless to the nightly watch

The creatures lurking lurid all self-born fed

Soaked in urine of guilt despair

Yesterday’s clothes with regrets deep lined

Laundered hours, yet not the stain cleared away

In thoughts grown tightly vined

With barbs that hold me captive there

And nowhere is a place to turn and share

The memories where I would pass gladly

Back in time to correct and challenge

Errors lost in mists of passing ticks

Birthed by a clock that backwards cannot go.                                         March 2,