The Fog in My Soul

The Fog in My Soul

Cold and damp winter fog
Creeping, leaping, seeping,
Into my tortured soul.

Like pulling off the freeway,
My life moves at a different speed,
In this helter-skelter tempest of time.

Past the cool mists of autumn,
Descending further into the depths,
To the season of my soul's despair.

The air so full, laden with mental moisture,
Laden from the tears within my being this day.
A heart-heavy gravity weighs my existence.

Thick air to match
My head also thick.
Each breath from this swamp
Draws a quagmire of quicksand,
Parking an ill-conceived egg timer,
Where my brain should be.

So trodden, berated, disheveled,
Full of confusion and frustration.
No answers today, just wishing,
Praying for the passage of time.