It creeps up behind me, and then I’m smothered.
I suffocate in the fog, and no amount of coughing will get it out.
Wandering usually helps.
Alone but not.
The city is massive, the people crowd the corners and walkways, and I drag my feet beside them.
Alone but not alone.
It burns deeper. The pain. The hunger.
The sadness that overwhelms my every sense.
I see no happiness, nor hear it.
I taste no freedom, nor touch it.
I smell no hope, nor want to know what it would smell like.
Will no one release me from this ache?
Not even a trip to a favorite place can fix me.
It usually helps; it does no good today.
Material solves nothing.
I am beyond repair.