The press of time weighs heavy on my mind,
As the new year creeps inevitably onwards,
Approaching inexorably,
Looming before me,
Like a deathly visage,
Built of remembrance,
Weak and unsatisfied,
Rank, dripping with vague regrets,
That will not be named,
But whisper in the shadows,
And make a pallid numbness,
Fill the leaden minutes.
(3/1/10)
