When Darkness Approaches: Unveiling the Haunting Vision of Liam Snaith’s “I See The Black Dog Coming”
Ever had one of those nights when the clock mocks you with its cold precision—3:37 a.m. here, 3:58 a.m. there—and something darker, heavier, shifts just beneath the skin? That’s the black dog, a stubborn old visitor who’s no stranger to poets and painters alike, lingering in the shadows, tugging at your thoughts and your will. But what if you found yourself bargaining with it at ungodly hours—giving it a bath, tossing in a job application, hoping to starve it off just long enough to keep life moving forward? There’s something intimately raw, almost painfully human, in this quiet skirmish between despair and duty, especially when the world outside is asleep and you’re wide awake, feeding ghosts with the soft mercy of metaphor. Ever wonder if feeding the black dog again is really the answer, or if sometimes it’s just waiting patiently to be acknowledged? Dive into this midnight dialogue of misery and small acts of defiance—a poetic snapshot that lets us peek behind the curtain of restless minds.
I see the black dog coming.
Because it woke me up at 3:37 a.m.
Miserable inside
Until I had a bath
And applied for another job
I see the black dog coming
It wants to go for a long walk
And come back alone
But it’s 3:58 a.m.
Miserable outside
And my son is asleep in his nursery
So I’m staying here
I see the black dog coming
I can tell from a mile off
It’s hungry
But I only fed it earlier tonight
There’s a can left for it
