"Going Blind" is about choosing numbness over facing yourself. The speaker is handed over by someone who "tucks me away," as if their pain were something to hide. When the speaker asks what happens if the thing they're trying not to see is their own mind, nobody answers. Then a second figure, "she," appears and offers another kind of darkness: tobacco smoke. The poem suggests she stands for the habit or the escape itself.
The smoke fills the speaker's lungs, burns their nostrils, and rises into the brain until they "go blind." The repeated "at last, at last" sounds like relief. The speaker's depression is not cured but reshaped into a "persona," a mask over the truth. The last line admits the cost: blindness is "unfriendly," yet still beautiful. The mood is hazy, soft and seductive on the surface, with an uneasy sadness underneath. The speaker knows the comfort is a trade-off and takes it anyway.