Sometimes I forget
that this darkness you fall into is a disease
that it sucks at your livelihood with its smog black fangs
patterns you with purple bruises in its own design

I glower at you for its nimble strings
as it puppets your gaze into nothing
your fingers, your arms, all wooden, coarse splinters

and when it kicks you hard
you fall into me, left winded on your knees
and i, crumpled on the concrete
raise my hand to a cut lip