Here's a poem I wrote a while back (year or so). Sort of Dickensonesque, though no flies buzz nor sepulchres groan within.

The Darkest Coat of Dreams

I wrap myself in cloaks of darkness,
Weaving black on black of night on night
While sparkling stars betray my insight,
Then stretch my fingers into blindness.

I sungaze to wipe the soul with light,
Then shut eyes and wish the world away--
To seal the windows and flee the day
Is to keep a promise made each night.

I sleep deep and dream and roll and cry
At all the vivid images, bright
That flash and burn in embedded flight
From hours and years lost to sunlit sky.

In dreams I weave frail dark strands around
Of fancied loves and unfulfilled fate.
Yet waking, I fear and know too late,
To all tainted mourning here I’m bound