There’s no respite; 

the horrors keep unspooling. 
I just want to catch my breath, to breathe, 
to be able to believe I’ll keep living. 
The sun and moon turn on, the stars 
blink and shimmer. Seasons will shift, 
slide into each other – but will we? Ever? 
In past times, I’d visioned drifts of sand 
turned obsidian in an instant. Once 
it was blood washed bodies; another dream – 
anthropomorphic animated roses bobbing 
on a dark ocean. This time, mind’s eye 
is not just blank, but absent – seeming 
blind. Not any 
kind of comfort, let alone cold, when 
those dark sights at least allowed 
your heart to know 
there would be 
something 
to see.