And with the first pop of a champagne bottle
To bring in this New Year,
Comes the first bite of depression
That will once again topple my balance
As I walk against the wind,
Against the grain,
Through these winter months.

It is a sad state of affairs,
Old songs with tortured lyrics
Of a time I always think has past,
A juvenile whine
That will always hit me in the *** on the way out.

I imagine swinging limp from a branch,
A bright blue string to match the lips,
Swing, swing.

A pool of ***** too shallow to drown in
Too deep to keep down the capsules,
Gag, gag.

It is that time of year
Where the words fall lifeless on the page
And the only thing that shines
Is the glow of the screen,
And the traffic lights stuck on red.

It is not the sadness,
Sadness is easily tolerated.
Low maintenance.

It is the stretch of endless indifference,
A flavourless meal
And those hours lost
Staring blankly past the door
And seeing nothing but the ghosts of memories
Dancing in the hall.