Darkness encircles me,

fills me with strong dread,

surrounds me.


Darkness reflects my eyes,

in a much-overlooked mirror.


The wolves howl at the covered moon,

lamenting its ever-growing cloak.




Darkness is my heart,

my brain, and my spirit.


Darkness for ridicule.

Darkness for love lost.

Darkness for terror.

Darkness for ridicule.


I see my mourning visage reproduced in stars,

and exacerbated upon cloaking.


I see tears dancing like mad witches,

my breath cackling like the old hags,

as stars and moon and sun are darkened now.


My globe is void of color.

My heart is void of joy.


Every corner leads to a street called anger.

Mapmaker! Mapmaker! Mapmaker!

Show me a map that has not been devoured by this plague.

None exist, the two devastating words of the joyless mapmaker.


One trillion tears leave me, and two trillion are born.

One trillion brave soldiers die in battle, and two trillion enlist.


Darkness is my only companion,

darkness, from my scalp to my toes.

Brett Lewbel

Originally appeared in the 2010-2011 edition of Outside In.