Alone

What is with the sad-boi hours?
What is with the rain without flowers?
Do I dare explore the confines
of an expectedly average mind?

Or do I dwell on the past?
Replay the failures of a man who has passed?
Do I look to the future?
Foresee lacerations and sutures?

Messages, lights, and dings
hurt my eyes and remind me of darker things.
Bright screens
screen my screams.

Someone must save me
if there is anything left in the salvage
Someone must pull me
to solid ground from the ridge.