The Funk

That's what I call this dreadful dirge of a mood.
Some days (and nights) my slight depression, extreme loneliness, and my self loathing fuse into a poisonous cocktail... and it creates this.
This ridiculous and pitiful frame that I often wonder into, it's sicking and mind numbing.
I hate myself more for even... being here.

I can feel that lump in my throat... like I want to cry.
I can feel that pressure in my chest... like I want to yell.
I can feel my brain subtract... and that's when the will to live becomes much more clear.

Fortunately (or is it unfortunately?) I'm a very pious man...and for the most part too shrewd.
And I cant stand the thought of never seeing my Brothers and Mother again.
It would be selfish. It would be stupid.

But good lord. I feel so loathsome and useless, I'd rather live the life of a snail then carry on as this train wreck of a human being. I just want to be gone and never be remembered... as not to upset the people I have known.

This funk. It's selfish.
I hate who I have become in recent years.
I wish I was somebody else.
I just fantasize about being off in the heavens flying past the cosmos and to see his splendor.
Having the cool wind splash my face. My body and mind finally feeling liberated and free.

But Instead I'm here.
Wasting resources, being a nuisance, being lame.
I just need to sleep it off.