Gloom

cram into a coolamon
feel the tuck
the grain and writhe
the surge of 
ancient sap

contort 
like a treble clef
into the loops
and dangles
of self criticism

concentric rings
smaller ever smaller
winding in
with melancholy's suck

consumed 
to the very centre
the heartwood
and there:
tears may seep
darkening like blood

slowly warming
sadly healing

10 thoughts on “Gloom

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