Unpredictable nature of this thing

So in an attempt to keep myself focused on my writing, I've been submitting to the occasional contest. It's an interesting experience. Sometimes the process leaves me inspired while other times I vow to never write again. And that's completely discounting the fact that so far I haven't actually won anything. Just going through the old poems, trying to familiarize myself with them again is meaningful in some weird way. It's like meeting an old friend - love 'em or hate 'em.

'Found' this one today, and I remember it quite fondly, so I decided to share:

Change
Oct 2001
Rolling hills and green grass
Changing under the force of the cold;
I pull my coat on again, find a nickel covered in grime, an empty cigarette pack, and a piece of paper that seemed important a year ago.
It's the same coat I've worn for four years and it's seen better days
But it' warm and soft and comfortable and reminds me of a time different from this.

I'm cold all the time. I seek out a cat to sit on my lap or the dog to cuddle with, borrowing the warmth they radiate.
They all sense trouble; the bird is quieter, the cats are near, the dog is calmer and even the fish seem to want to hibernate.
I wonder what they must think when despite the furnace and well furnished rooms the house still chills and there is no escape.
I try to be like them: calmer, quieter.

It's a sleepy life now. Yesterday was full of anger and pain. Peace is but a memory I don't remember anymore.
I hide in words and pictures, seeking comfort and oblivious ignorance.
I want to cut myself open to see if I still bleed, to bleed out the disease I carry.
I want to sleep until it's warm again, like a bear, and if sleep takes me I would understand.

Life got all turned around again. Life keeps changing and I can't seem to change with it.
It reminds me of driving down a highway, hopping from town to town, when radio stations fade out on the dial and it takes 20 miles to realize the silence in the car is so pure.
Echoes haunt me, keep me awake at night, asking me for understanding.

I lost myself a while back. All the towns seem the same now. All the days are just reflections of one another.

I can't find a new radio station. And I'm so cold all the time. And my illness will carry me away in torrent of agony and suffering.

I'll leave little notes behind: don't forget to feed the animals, don't forget to change the station, don't worry - I took a coat.