Carpenters in a crumbling house NaPoWriMo poem 18

An apocalypse reflected on our faces.
Beads of sweat dripping down
Or are they tears we haven’t wept
Yet?

We glow like cigarettes
being smoked down to the last
Sharpening our bayonets

Fighting for remnants of the past

An orange glow
Lit us up
No time to turn on back.

We are carpenters in a crumbling house.





For full transparency the title and last line is inspired by a reply to a post on Quora

Darkness NaPoWriMo poem 17

These feelings can’t be contained
in a sustained note
Or a melody you wrote
The music doesn’t filter them
like they were meant to
Like you say, maybe I hold on too tight
to this darkness inside.

People say that darkness is good
Because you can see light
but I guess I must be blind.
I’m always trying to empty
this hollow space of expanded nothing
But it’s like it goes too deep
and has become the roots within

I’m constantly deflated
while this depression bloats