November 7, 2007

Always alone, No company.
Yesterday was terribly unremakable; a simple stroke of fantastic depression.
Cathartic but painful to sit and weep, loudly and without regard.
Pieces of memory that stuck to me, that didnt escape with the rest, at the appropriate time.
Short memories of collars turned up in defense of stiff wind,
Rosy cheeks exhibited during morning routines,
Fires crackling, spitting, too excited to last.
Dinners simmering to beatific fullness.
Snapshots, really, of what my cycles consisted of.
There were little joys there, tiny sparkling moments that seemed to last forever.
Old songs bring them to the forefront and hold my eyes open.
Past happiness clings to my face,
but they should only make me smile.
Happy is Habit.