The Black Dog

The black dog is waiting,
Waiting outside my door
To lead me down dark
Corridors of my mind
Past stations in the wall;
Rope, razor, pill and gun.

Black velvet shrouds drape
Pressing walls, enclosing; lulling
Me like a Nick Drake song.
Glass obsidian floors cover
Unfathomable twisting rivers of
Dark thoughts, glimmering through
The faint defenses I have cobbled.

He takes me down un-cheerful.
Leaden purpose darks out the
Light. Pulls the covers over,
Willing me to sleep and dream
Foreboding ways to end the pain.
To stop at stations in the wall and
Choose respite from it all.

I used to fear the visits; tried
Everything to bar the door.
All the frenzy, all the fear,
Empowered him to enter and
Lead me down dark corridors,
Past stations in the wall;
Rope, razor, pill and gun.

Alas, I no longer fear him.
He cannot tie the knot or
Slice the vein, drug me to oblivion,
Put gun to head, without my hand.
He will get bored and disappear,
Knowing this and not to fear the
Bite, has tamed his power over me.

He will be waiting, always waiting
For me to let him in and like an old
Familiar friend, he will walk me
Down dark corridors again, still
Stopping at the stations, knowing
I no longer consider these choices as
Salvation. He will leave me to the light.