So I wrote this poem yesterday and I suppose it’s about where my head has been at lately and some of the internal struggles I’ve been going through over the past few months, and really how these are just reincarnations of the same struggles with depression and addiction and despair that I’ve always had. In any case, it’s a working title.
the fisherman
wasted all last summer digging graves walked away with grass stains, fingernails mooned with earth spent my nights in the mausoleum garden shed curled up with a shovel getting friendly with the dirt I've done it all before held a grudge against the sun its glimmering imposition such a heavy heat I try to cast my shadow back to the sky like a fisherman's line but I end up in the drink shivering wet up to my elbows I drag myself back up the bank moonlight splashing off the grass I know this place these trees, these epitaphs this climb down to the coffin press my fingers into the turf the lawn smell, the dirt smell new rain and rubber hoses worms wriggle past my face as I clamber down pluck some for the hook.
Thanks for reading and subscribing. I know it’s been a bit slow around here. I’m trying to do better.
Keep your head up, dude... I also suffer from this unfortunate affliction, and the days getting shorter definitely doesn't help. I just try to buckle down and get through each day until December 21st, and then count down the days until Daylight Savings again. It helps a little, although these days my head just seems like it's swimming with existential dread. I like to think there's some nobility in carrying on with the struggle, but some days it doesn't feel worth it. Those are the days I'm extra careful to check in with folks. Keep on keepin' on...
This is absolutely incredible Erik and I love all of your reviews!!! Don’t let them get you down you are incredible and your fear the walking dead reviews brighten up my day even when it’s a bad day so thank you for always being so amazing brother!