Wrote this one many (decades?) ago, summary of someone “hitting bottom.”
Darkness Within Darkness
At 4:22 a.m. he staggers up and looks out the window.
Wintry clouds drape treetops.
The last can lodges on the floor.
The empty pipe perches on the table.
Wind howls and blasts through cracking trees,
stabs through the sill.
He rubs his wrist on its blue edge.
He spirals around until
the weight of his soul crashes at his feet.
Tears trickle, stream, then evaporate.
Frosty clouds spew a monstrous moon.
In the window a silvery phantom appears,
whispering his name. Creepy pitch smothers it.
The can and pipe beckon in the dark.
Then a faint but clear voice gasps, It’s time.
Warm currents fill every cell and space.
He stands, stomps the can and pipe
and throws them in the rubbish.
He knows what he will do in the morning.
Peter C. Venable 