Oh dear god
Depression grips thick like the heavy hand of fog so deep it cuts and burns.

I feel regret and anger mix a churning batch of ugly wretched guilt in the stewing pot of self-pity.

Deep waters of guttural goop dripping past the edge of comfort and clarity.

Following instinct round ragged curves of torn edges under the dark bridge of confusion I want to curl up and fall into the memories of yesterday that held me aloft in innocence.

Free to fend for myself I long no more for the lonely path of independence, I cannot see tomorrow clearly.

“When does happiness leave me in peace?” Are the words that haul this fever through me like an old and rusted freight train.

Pity…

Four tinny letters, a pin prick of ink stained slander that bruise the pages of my tortured self.

Pity…

The blood stained hook that gouges scaring wounds across the face of loss and wanton disregard of promised safety.

I wish the unavailable to fill my cup with cozy permanence and only taste the sorrow of lonely nights and stupid phrasings.

Turn to the light and wonder what I can’t see, is all I know to express. Looking to free myself from the treads of blinded paths are all that I can hold… expecting in return for what I give, a torch to light my way…

WHY!!!!!

I wish to scream “do these feelings haunt me in ever present circles of vicious reprise.” What do I do that holds me prisoner in this lonely state of introspective enterprises?

Or

Rather what do I lack that only others can teach me…
If they are willing.

Self PITY, the hooks of a vampire needing endless supplies of golden blood to feed the ever-present hunger, is the torn white flag I wave in surrender to the Ethos.

..........................
Written durring a very dark period of my life
October 1, 2001