The Obvious

The Obvious

It is obvious to me that I am in fact depressed

A Saints victory over the hated Falcons could yet, but dissipate this onslaught

I am fermented in a dearth of faith, hope and aspiration that more than this

Clump of settled for is possible

The energy to inflate these lungs to aspire to breathe a beauty

Beyond these prison walls is null

All I can handle is this routine, please God I am clinging

To this foul routine that makes me sad, but at least I have it

And the idea of hoping and appearing beautiful to magnetize

To something beautiful defies the logic of knowing the aphrodisiac

Of positive thinking, of myopic sight on the things I have done right

Rather than the slander of the dirty playground mud clumps slung

I am intelligent, with home, good hearted and atoned

With my God for believing that I have attempted to amend for what

Seemed necessary and yet I do not want to be here or anywhere

I don’t want to start over.  I don’t want to try so hard

I want to relax and I can not find a path

I want a woman and a family and she is offering one to me in ways

But all I can’t help but thinking is how one day what she may do to me

To take it away: the drama and pain of the inevitable walk out

This heavy weight scar on my chest, knowing the danger signs

Of the connection between the uptown and rural porch steps

And those texts, and keys thrown, and cursing and bare bones

Exposed and I don’t ever want to step foot back in a court room

Adjudication like a dehumanizing automaton

Bludgeoning me with the biases against the masculine gender

And I feel Methuselah wanting to coast and all she wants me to do

Is to buy more gas for this engine to drive both ways up hill

Rationalize so much of it with having to put up with the pills

I have already had to swallow to entertain this wallow

And I can not both be and take on more burden and see hope erupting

This depression it consumes me into hoping for a pragmatic nothing.