The Cold Days

Written while medicated on Oktoberfest blend.

The cold days are here.

 

Here to stay.

 

It is that time of the year.

 

The time where nature flies south.

 

The time where nature takes sick leave.

 

The time when the warmth becomes reclusive.

 

This is the time when the weeds should be pulled.

 

This is the time when the air conditioner should be covered.

 

This is the time when the husband should be more motivated.

 

But does that ever happen?

 

Ever happen at all?

 

I don’t think so.

 

The house falls apart.

 

So does the relationship.

 

Because the husband is a slob.

 

A man of principle, but not of work ethic.

 

His work ethic involves lifting the hand in short motions.

 

Usually with a brown glass bottle.

 

Or upon the region of limited light.

 

A self-centered being capable of great merit when pushed.

 

Pushed by himself, not by anybody else.

 

His heart has love, but the love is lost.

 

Lost in self-love, because that’s the only love he knows.

 

Three months from now is three decades gone.

 

A child of the eighties still with no children of his own.

 

A statistic in this day and age, a unwanted one.

 

But if the greater Power exists and has a plan,

 why does the human hate such subjection?

 

At least this human anyway.

 

Lunacy abounds, then survival is ensured.

A long pointless life that is a pittance compared to the universal scale.

 

Scale of time, that is.

 

Like a colored leaf that lies between the house and the garage.

 

Rotting, about to become one with the earth.

 

And so on, so it goes, the circle of life.

 

But I’m a unique snowflake, or so I think.

 

Self-delusion is the hallmark of the depressed philosopher type.

 

I’m unique like the leaves on a tree,
but that makes me like every leaf on the tree.

 

The cold days are here, and so the cold thoughts are here.

 

Just another normal bull session greased by the Oktoberfest blend.

 
Whatever and ever, Amen!