Bare Brooding

I admit defeat.
I admit this ragged shawl
that sequesters my squeezed eyes
from the lambent pulses
churning like a tempest in my knotted brain,
has left me blind
as a suckling puppy-dog-
without the will to see.
I admit that I have slipped
through each shallow breath
that is jostled out
with a clang of steel and splitting bells,
from the carry of the safe and stalwart stallion
to a land of swirling scares
and ambush-thoughts
like hungry ghosts.
I know,
I see
that as days swoon past
like idle cavities
My tingling desert tongue
yearns feebly for the taste of comfort,
each time my fated chime is rung.