Depression

It’s like being wrapped up in the covers as a kid.

Confined in a dome of limited oxygen

Crumpling your lungs like a brown paper bag

Until you’re released by your dad’s smile, providing you the miracle of

Breath

Depression keeps you jailed in a pressurized dome

And it wraps its disheveled hands around your throat and

suffocates you

While obstructing your thin line of vision with rotating black and white

Screaming rumors and lies

Stunning your senses

Allowing all to attach strings and make you dance.

 He created a cavern in my chest

And snipped out my throbbing heart,

Then pierced it with the tip of an ink pen

And colored it with the word

 “Failure,”

While bursting the blood vessels with each stab

The contortionist who vandalized my heart

Then wrung it out,

Dripping alcohol and blood into his mouth,

Blurring out his pain.

Without realizing, he blurred out my suffering.

Now, as a trusted companion,

I twist people’s lives into braids of doubt and isolation,

Allowing me to intoxicate others

with the wine he generously took from me.

Hippocampus

Like a metronome

She swings back and forth

From her desensitized body

To an inaudible wail for help

Further ravaging

Her already mutilated skin,

Just to endure and wistfully watch

Sensation seep out of her thigh

And her body so cumbersome

Like dumbbells

That she plummets

And sinks into her bed

Only proceeding to dwell upon

Her anxiety that cringes

in disdain

For the remainder

Of her already unpleasant day