as above, so below

as above
blinding white light
shears through the velvet
evening fabric with intentional
cross-stitching, the yellow burn of yarn
looped through my doc martin boot, laced
around its neck like the noose of my lover left dangling
the stars seem more like exit wounds the longer i stare
i slip off my boot to air my bare feet between blades of grass
graciously licked by the accumulating morning dew condensing quietly
in the night consumed by grief and haunted by memories that
stain the glass of my prescription with faithless pessimism
i spiral on my descent down into my subconscious
attempting to stab through its skin with shards
of hope to expose holes of light so to
keep me from drifting into the dark
deafening endless depth
so below