By Eli O’Donnell
It’s dark in my apartment.
I keep the lights off in the day to let the sunlight through,
But as time ticks past
And I glimpse rays of light till last,
There are less, fewer, few.
I’ve got bulbs I could click on with that awful orange haze,
The light that lies,
It hurts my eyes,
And so I avoid it in many such ways.
But it’s more than lumens that taunt my senses,
A flag lashes at eighth story wind,
Wet pavement and tires, speed pinned,
While I’m trapped in a mind that wanders and a body that tenses.
I’d listen to music to drown it all out,
But to my mind, none of it’s right,
Sounds it loved it only now fights,
So I keep it off to avoid the bout.
This is not who I am, who I was and wish to be,
I’m conflicted, confused,
And surely unamused,
At this person pretending to be me.
I’m not myself when I’m like this,
This person is just not me,
Which is why when we refer to him his name is now he,
A title that he’ll dismiss.
He’s lonely, trapped with lies held high,
“I’m keeping sane, I’m doing ok, really I’m alright,”
When really he’s been snuffed out like sunsets last light,
The kind that blinds the eye,
And so it’s dark in his apartment.
