really thinking
not in that fickle, fleeting, absent-minded way you've come to know
for months now
and still, now
three or four, for sure, but perhaps for even more
still I'm lost for words
and I was always good with words
but this concept cuts me down so deeply I can't help but to succumb
to a cacophony of distractions meant to drown out the painful hum
restore the numb
I've regressed
and now I've said it, or rather typed it- I admit that I've regressed
I've retreated into this retrograde state of being I detest
This immature and childish victim who's always lonely and depressed
When did this start?
My memories are always fuzzy when it comes to things so close to heart
I can't recall the spark inside me dying
Sometime before those days in bed where I couldn't cease the crying
Before the Zoloft at least instilled inertia to keep on trying
It must have been some time ago
How long was I denying?