it feels good to hold this smoke in my lungs
because nothing else feels good anymore
(except when i’m with you, but that’s another story)
a sickening sign of a deepening depression
that will increase with the further recession
how long have i felt so stuck
i’ve lost track of all time
(except that i attempt to cling to it, indefinitely)
since this aching has gone
longer than i anticipated on
bones buried in mud
heart beats with a haunting thud
mine, i see, future home
the earth with the rest
complacency purged
and clarity ingested,
hopefully.
