depression. beautiful, painless, meaningless depression.
nothing to make you scream and yell,
nothing to make a dent in your perfect fucking life.
but - depression. say the word. it rolls off your tongue.
even the word is tired. you just want to close your eyes
and fucking weep.

nothing concrete about it - that would make it a temper
fucking tantrum, wouldn't it? depression.
too much effort to even start a new line.

you just close your eyes and the tears roll down
because it takes too much out of you to cry properly.
too fucking much, all at once, all demanding attention.
why don't they just leave me the fuck alone?
then they do and i could bite my tongue off.
damned smart-alecky thoughts. i don't want to be alone
with just my laconic thoughs for company.

and nothing loathes company like depression.
if people are around you panic. your heart speeds up
and your breathing quickens and you can't think
because of the goddamned fear twisting your gut.
let them leave you alone and it's claustrophobic.
the walls close in and bury you alive.

like i said, nothing concrete. more like drowning
in your own fear.

i can taste it. it's acrid, like wood-smoke and sulphur
on your tongue as you burn slowly.
i thought i was drowning? whatever.
sometimes it hurts too much to think.

i give myself three, maybe four weeks at most.
then little old me, perfect little me, *happy* little me,
will throw the biggest fucking temper tantrum you have ever seen.
forget creatures of the night, this is personal.
then, i'll scream.

it'll be fun.

*****

Fin