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 

tick 

tick

tick 

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.