The song

There are those days
when you’ve eaten the last of the pop tarts
and washed them down with the last beer and
there’s not a goddamn thing left in your fridge.
Your hungry and pissed
and the overwhelming sense of gloom and
graveyard doom
comes a creepin.
The walls start talking,
hissing insults your way
and are choosing whether or not
to come crashing down.
Your pillows feel like bricks and 
time bombs.
You try starting thirteen different books
to shake off and distract from the pain of this sick life
but none of them stick.
The so-called friends
won’t text back,
the panic of the dark
starts to settle into chilled bones,
the world starts to tilt to the pointless and blank.

And just when hope is
snuffed out,
strangled out of your head,
you find that one song
you used to listen to
hundreds of times
after your brother died,
and you turn it on,
all the way up,
all the way up,
and it becomes a prayer,
a deliverance from the dark.

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