Angler like depression

I am at the edge of darkness,
praying for an angler like light
to guide me through the cavernous cracks of earth.
Preying on the words
I can see you've clearly sketched
across the purple granite.
Watching your wrists twist and crack
in concerning patterns,
gliding and slipping
into an electrical current
you call a habit.
I am watching you
illustrate the illusions
of life onto a solved,
scientific surface.
and what an untameable force
this frustration has become.

Windows

The windows got a bit foggy
when I started to shout out
all the imperfections
my little eye could spy.