It all came in today, the rain, the sharper air, the lack of warmth,
traveling upon the crest and currents of a colder thought;
a lonely, lingered air, the frigid combination of a shared
month and mood discovered through the balance that I’d lost.
Mornings filled with radio alarms –talk talk- the sleep is light
but comes in folded layers, heavy blankets, darker dreams.
The thoughts begin again. A billion bodies crawl beneath my skin,
a billion prodding limbs that bend and force me to my feet.
Work is now a sedative, a means of substance, no more.
Writing has become a tortured test of fickle will.
The sun suspended in a wind that suctions up the light it gives,
drifting overhead, so still, so lacking, so it goes.
So I move inside this month, this mood, this winding winter binding to
the cyclic symptoms of a new neurosis to embrace.
Loneliness, dissatisfaction with the sex and interactions
meant to supplement to the want the weather has displaced.
And so the winter goes, the colder seasons of the heart and soul,
with layers of emotion snowed as lonely glaciers laid.
But, big as they become, the sum will slowly come undone and float
as tiny bits of memory drift and drown to be replaced.