A Boy and His Dog

I couldn't get out of bed today.  It wasn't on purpose.  I was consumed by something I've been before.  It doesn't surface often, but when it does I am paralyzed.  Incapacitated.  Useless to and for the world.  It's better for others if I am alone during this.  I don't know if I could be truly held responsible for my actions if I were to enter into the world.  Life is distasteful during this time.  These bouts of seemingly unending darkness.  I need to recharge.  Sleep evades me and compounds the shadows that envelop my every breath.  Something is missing in me.  I feel it. 

I saw a boy and his dog yesterday on my sunlit walk.  He looked happy.  The dog was of course delighted, for he had his boy and the boy had his dog and all was right with the universe.  He grinned at me from ear to ear as I passed, as I smiled at his puppy so immersed in life it nearly broke my heart.  They jogged on down the path and I stopped and turned.  I wanted that.  Not the boy, nor the dog...but that indescribable moment to moment awareness that finds you when you've let it all go. 

I hold on too tight, you know.  With a grip akin to death, I squeeze and prod and squint until distortion and dismay ensues.  I want normal thoughts like normal people.  I want to make myself feel better.  No one else can do this for me.  I'm broken, you know.  A busted doll with one eye...tattered and filthy;  Tossed in a corner with no lustre left.  Where does this come from?  Do I breathe life into it and it boils and festers or is it always there?  Biding time for birth in my brain.  I see happiness, you know.  I recognize its colors...it's contrast to where I live.  The brightness pains my heart and angers the rest.  I want to live there, goddamn it...I want to live THERE.