Antiseptic

this is winter, sneaking up on me
crawling through the sunlight
i am racing thoughts and angry
march is not the time for this
you are a bitter bitch
to bring the snow
and grey skies in
subversive dogma to convince me
i'm not really here

there must be something in the chemistry
the atmospheric pressure, something
logical to dictate why
my synapses rebel like this
some sort of toxic mind corrosion

i am tears and shame and rage
at all of the above
corner hiding, wishing go away
and stay
and stay

and the paint smells of death and antiseptic
and the footsteps in the hall might not be there

this is winter on the outside
sky like mud and wind that rips your skin off
leaves you naked, bare exposed
and cautious turning looking for some
tiny thread of hope
spiderwebs and cattails

this is crushing, artificial breathing
blue and black and understanding
winter isn't infinite

crawling toward the springtime
madness holds the world together.