black days wash in sometimes
like an unexpected tide
and you don't always know why
but there they are

black days are empty days
you can't enjoy a movie
not if it's new or even if it's an old favorite
music doesn't matter
they talk about people killing themselves
with depressing music in the background
but even sadness eludes me on the black days
so I don't care if the singer screams
about veins or death
or flowers and sunshine

yes, sometimes you wash in
on a black tide
like a body waiting for forensics
the body has no feeling and
who knows what the tide feels

these days are strange
movies and music can't distract
you want no conversation, not really
you can't concentrate on the book you're reading
read the same line seventeen times
before throwing the book aside

at some point, three a.m. washes in on the tide
and you're alone
no one to play to, not now
so you find your own tide
something that feels and
with any luck
the tide won't leave any bodies behind