Another night of little sleep, but instead of just lying there staring at the ceiling I wrote a poem.
I cannot sleep.
There is a large black dog at the foot of my bed, and every time I shut my eyes
it howls.
I feed it.
A diet of pain, razor blades and orange ribbon. But he is never sated, wanting more.
and still it howls.
I walk it.
To exorcise it in the watery November sun. But he drags me back to dark shadows.
And still it howls
I visit the vet.
To kill it with a pill, and pour alcohol on the wounds. But he is without a panacea, no cure.
And still it howls
I drown it.
Tied in a sack of distraction: thrown in a river of music and TV. But the river soon runs dry.
And still it howls
I care for it.
Love and nurture it, so I can train it to be silent and howl no more. But he cannot be broken or subdued.
And still it howls
Please be kind with any comments, I do not claim to be a poet, but it filled an hour or two and thought I'd share
I hope you sleep tonight x Dan
Grief
Short Summary of the past few weeks
Feel such a failure
Waiting 
Losing a parent
