Obsidian Eyes

By Christopher Rupley

My mind is full to the brim,
melancholy pouring forth,
a cathexis of heavyhearted
cheerlessness covers over me
like a dank nexus between all
I am and all that is hate,
like an eternal dreary night
that churns on and on,
like ancient Achlys,

Oh! How I lament…

A mind such as the mythic
and ceaseless black mist,
the culmination of all
that is sadness and misery,
and yet,

Is this not me?

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