My eyes are burned from staring too intently into the light.

I need the dark to soothe me a bit,

to wrap me up and tell me it’s alright to be low

to be blue

to be less for a while.

I don’t want to be more than this.

That suggests I can get ahead of it somehow,

that I can be larger than it feels

When all I feel is overwhelmed.

No matter how many sunsets are counted

Sometimes there’s just no bright side.

I wanted so much to tie last ride into this poem

to appease the prompt gods

but there is a dark moist corner of hell

reserved for forced poetry that rhymes for the sake of it.

Eh, fuck it.

(let the sorrow be your guide

whether your first, or worst, last ride)

(ha.)