Dark Thoughts

It's like you have a cinema screen at the front of your mind,
Onto which you project what you see, what you wish, what could be.
And then a box appears in the corner, a preview of something else.
But you didn't call it - it sprang up unbidden,
A subconscious well of poison hijacking a moment of your attention.
You can't help but look, and you focus, the rest blurring out,
Until there is nothing else to think about but the inky black portrayed.
You try to break it, but the inkiness somehow becomes real,
Suffusing even the big screen, spreading hopelessness.
But the well is finite, and to cover everything it dilutes down,
Gradually becoming nothing, the screen still clear.
But it hasn't gone away, and the well will refill,
Ready to spread it's hopelessness again.
Dark thoughts are like mists in the consciousness,
Carpeting the ground, always burned off by the sun,
Always returning, and always with the fear of what if the sun fails...