Everlast December

When I think of last December,
all my joys and all my pleasures
disappear as I remember
that which haunts me constantly.

Every dream and every sweater
burden me with dread forever.
I toss them out but still together
they plague my mind endlessly.

The white walls of dark December,
The white pillows with no feathers;
Donna said death would be better.
She did not speak jokingly.

I confess that I remember
my resorts of desperate measures,
my stallings and my displeasures
holding me so dauntingly.

Late at night I still hear screaming
from the schizophrenic sleeping
drowned in a world so misleading
he will never leave that place.

The nurses bereft of all feelings
patronized in all their dealings.
Never attempted concealing
hatred for every sad face.

Armen came to me that evening,
glossy eyes and arms forgiving,
gave me reasons to keep living,
kept me warm in his embrace.

Charles was right; there is no telling
what lies in our future's dwellings
good or bad or worth forgetting
for our coming breathing days.

I will still recall December.
I will still always remember
What I felt back then, forever.
Everlast lives last December.