I’m a little bit less joyous these days,
and I sometimes wonder why.
Things kind of lost their luster —
not as bright through this same eye.
I told myself, ‘It’s just a season.’
How long can a season be cold?
It’s not a frigid season,
but, this needless chill gets old.
I long for a time when laughter
and smiles were abundantly there
for much longer than a moment,
or, at least while I didn’t care.
Before I cared about the sin
and the damage I was doing to me.
Handing myself to the destruction…
Blind, and could not see.
Waking up after smiles and tears
had completely exhausted this face.
Not happy at all, until I was able
to scrape up another taste.
Face with a grin — amused and content!
Body numb and all pain gone.
Sleep away until the coming day,
and rise to the same old song.
Following nights were filled with nothing more
than a joke and something to consume.
Just me and a few enabling friends,
or, anyone who’d walk into our room.
Party for a chuckle —
celebration for no reason.
Now, I don’t laugh like that…
I sometimes smile in this endless season.
Did the brain burn away from the party?
Did the friends die with the run
of the nights we had for many years,
when we drank and smoked our fun?
Did the luster I once viewed
fade away with people and places?
Did the joy leave once the party was over,
as well as the familiar faces?
Did I become something I wasn’t
and become someone I’m not?
Did God sit me down and correct me,
and turn me into someone I despise…a lot..?
Few people and little joy,
and, the little I do find
is found in fleeting moments
and memories left behind.
I find myself sitting alone sometimes,
and wonder if it’s better this way.
Do I really need to have a joy
with such high prices to pay?
Or, should I just learn to be content
with a simple smile or two?
I keep smiling through the fleeting.
I keep watching what I do.
This current season is not one I enjoy.
At least, not like enjoyment was once defined.
It’s hard to live the current life
searching for the joy I left behind.
I don’t want it, but, I do want it,
but, I don’t want the hell it brought.
I sometimes stare into the past I’ve known
and hate this snare in which I’m caught.
‘F%!k you, old life!’
I mean that from my heart.
Due to the joy it brought me then,
I now don’t know where to start.
Some days are good, others suck bad.
I long for the joy you gave.
The same one that drove me insane,
and put my friend within his grave.
Pull me — push me…
You really have a way
of making me long for the life I had
when joy was still okay.