Winter

I think it was about this time last year that I started to lose it.
The season of discontent reached it's apex and I wallowed in the deep end of despair.
We are about at that point, again...
But not quite.
Perhaps there is a more solid resignation, to me these days.
The further one gets from the sun, the more a fondness for the dark grows.
Or something...
Not mentioning it out of pride, or search for pity.
Just mentioning it.

Been working on my head a lot this winter.
Working in my head, on my head.
Feels like good work, internally...
Externally, I seem to confuse, confound and irritate.
My new thinking seems to require a refinement on my delivery, maybe.
Or, perhaps, people can stop hearing and listen instead.
That seems presumptuous of me, though, to expect that from another.
Reasonable in concept, irrational in reality.


Your probably asking yourself "what the hell is saying and what does it have to do with me."
To which I might answer "exactly."
We are at an impasse of my own construction.
Not me building walls, just me building indifference.


Because it's winter...

I should have found a new hobby, like needlepoint, maybe.