Monday, December 3, 2012
December fog creeps in
And settles over everything
Enveloping the landscape and obscuring it from view
My depression does the same
(a re-used metaphor - so uncreative)
Working its way into the deepest crevices of my mind
I try to displace it with smoke
Try to fill in the space with various poisons
Try to ignore the fact that it's there altogether
Anything to keep me from wallowing in it
But these measures are all so temporary
So very fleeting
Because eventually I always end up back here
Stumbling blind through the fog
Searching for a light that won't go out
A mixed metaphor, perhaps
But why not confuse my writing
When it fits so comfortably with the rest of my life?
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It's so hard to be comfortable on my own
When everything reminds me of you
Music, books, restaurants
This entire city itself
Every street we've driven is mapped out in my memory
I need only to glance at an intersection we've travelled through
And dozens of memories come rushing forth of every conversation we've had there
Along with the emotions attached to them
I still remember where we were when you told me you were having one of the best nights of your life
Even though all we did was drive around, get high, and listen to music
And I still remember how happy and content that made me feel
What happened to us?
To me?
