Old Foes, New Life

From the vault.
Dedicated to those who feel like February has had them fighting for their lives;
in honor of those who were bested.

It may be one of those days. 

  Remember, closely, personally
      the hopeless comfort of that familiar
your own private corner of desolation.
    Like memory foam
           it welcomes you back
               it sucks you in
           it clouds your mind
               while pretending it's not poison.
     It creeps up, surrounds you gently like 
            an embrace
        to keep you from realizing before
               it's too late.

Your private desolation uses the things you love
                against you.
        It uses inanimate objects
                      against you.
     It uses the ones who try to understand
                            against you.
  – and you blame the things you love
              the inanimate objects
      the ones who try to understand –

Don't you understand?

Your private desolation mocks you.
   – the fumbling rage of your 
           discombobulated mind
       directed at innocent bystanders –
It laughs at you.

             Aim your rage at
        your private desolation
               and.  burn.  it.