Black Starless Night

A poem about the mid-20s to mid-30s

I still dream in white and black,

occasional soft grey images.

Obsess over a voice made for radio.

Arrive to the show an hour early,

clothed in solid black

under a starless night sky.

Adore anything spiked or studded.

I dream of childhood walks.

Had you told me I would still

be lost in the woods at 33,

I would have hated you.

You would have been right.

Asked what my rules for life were

during a college lecture:

1. Sleep when I’m dead
2. Make no rash decisons
3. Support other’s endeavors

Ten years later and I’m tired.

I’ve wanted to quit for years.

Wonder where my dreams failed.

I just want to feel something again.

I want to be that rebel

dressed in solid black,

under the starless night

waiting to see the local band.

Just to be able to feel again.