Refreshed

I scammed myself into cleaning out my nails, told myself I had somewhere to be, told myself someone would notice, told myself it would make me feel better about myself.
I bit my bottom lip,  the cigarette still aching in the backside of the brain.
'Let's not waste anytime.' I thought, as my visits here are building in frequency and words, momentum.

It's the winter again, subdued emotions rear their ugliest heads again and everything feels somewhat on hyperdrive and exhausted at the same time.
The cold chips away at the positive waves and drops, everything is leaving me at the wayside or it looks that way from here.

Deep, in the now, in this room with its centralised light, open drawers and broken wires.
I am old with here. I am old with anywhere and weary with breathing.

Fat clings to me, I to it. Want to scrap that diet, those walks, those things I know link me to "good feeling" I want to cut ties with. I want to break bonds and sit alone in my own woe, pretending it's someone elses fault, hiding behind my pity until spring stumbles through. When on that pretty day, spring stumbles through and reminds me I'm alive but I, right now, want to die with the woodland, with his oak and my pine.