My depression gets worse this time of year. I start to sleep more. I start to never want to wake up. I can feel the dreams, the dreams that I slept with, and waking reality seems nearly inconsequential. So I want to go back to sleep. I feel very cold when I wake up. The only solace I feel is in knowing I can hold my blankets over me, tightly, my covers can become my comforting placenta, And, I can go back to dreaming. The dreams I have are sad. Listen to them: I dream of waking up groggy, in a Philadelphia public park, In the Middle of Winter, Slushy snow surrounds me, but I am on an oddly shaped park bench, one designed nearly like a pull-out sofa. Made out of blue fake pleather. We are all sleeping on these basic, small couches, covered in blankets, sleeping every day away as being awake would be so much worse, And this Hobo, that I am sleeping next to, on the same cot, tells me this: I've Got a new wireless speaker here. Your father never cared about you. My Father cares about me. And thats when I wake up. The next dream I have is way worse.