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February 19, 2018

I feel it in my left frontal lobe.

Days of cereal and bed.

I make a girl I love laugh …. my shoe split in two.

But, does she know of this love?… I am no longer concerned.


Days pass. I sleep.

I experience nothing of these days.

New antidepressant …. ineffective.

Old antidepressant – ineffective.

At what hour do days end?

The hour of my choosing.

I choose an earlier hour.

Days of sunlight, curtains drawn.

Lack of sunlight leads to ….

sunlight streams through my window.

I prevent its entry.


Windows to be seen through – I see not.

To see whom? I have no one.

Living alone, an easy pastime.

Looking elsewhere, hearing gay greetings.

When was my last gay greeting?

When will be my next?


Depression. A sinful pleasure.

Life seems too long when it is lived.

A kiss on the cheek.

Or otherwise …. a sentence incomplete.


Competence. Incompetence. I judge the two.

The more that is prescribed the worse it becomes.

The two states. The same existence.

Longing for exit. Seeing entrance.


A crash. This is a strange place.

He who cooks coughs, endless coughing.

They buy his meals. Sickness is forthcoming.

The sickness of depression? One wonders.


We take leave from …. the cause …. depression.

All is acceptable. Depression …. never.

Nervous breakdown? This, I’ve already known.

Nervous breakdown …. indefinable.


Holidays …. I remain in my same state.

Leaving a past is never acceptable.

Do I accept my fate?

Another chose my fate.

Now I live this fate.

Without this other.


What of fate?

Unavailable. Away. Soon to be away.

Fate is realism, realistic.

Fate is a lost year.

Fate is a year of fear.

Fate is stress-caused acceptance.


Fate is practicality. Fate is near.

But, near is one …. and never.

Yes. I know you’re active.

No congratulations are expressed.

I do not respond in kind.

. her face is soft …. plain.


She …. is depression this she?

Does depression have this face?

Does depression have a face?

I hear a voice. The voice of depression?

Does depression have a voice?

Does my depression have a voice?

Yes. This depression is most certainly mine.


This depression does not exist ….

so I’ve been told …. do I believe?

Children are free at this time.

My love is before me, seemingly free.


What lives inside this love?

A depression? A discreet joy?

Discretion …. my love for her.

Our depressions could clash …. I hope.


When, hence, will these depressions clash?

I wait. I await. Nothing ….

nothing comes to pass. This is life ….

my life of depression.


I’m glad for what? That here I sit.

Before my love, I sit.

So often, here I sit.

Conversation, never. Of course.


I write lines …. my left frontal lobe.

I feel my left frontal lobe.

Activated by this depression.

My depression …. that I cling to.


The best news of my life …. depression.

Today, I can watch my love go.

For today, she returns home.

And at this home, what will she do?

This home that I shall never see.

Here, she passes a quiet life.

Here, she sows seeds.

Here, she sews linen.

Here, she feels alone ….

before me, she is in company.


Depression resides in souls.

Does depression possess her soul?

Solitude. Dear solitude. She and I ….

she and I and our dear solitude.


Solitude gives itself to life.

It gives itself to depression.

When she leaves my side, solitude.

She and I: solitude. Why then ….

why then these departs?

These sorrowful departs ….

sorrowful departs, with smiles.

I cherish these smiles.

False or not.


Depression …. not knowing.

Depression …. a love, isolation.

Depression …. denied, of course.

Depression …. a futile search.

Depression, love, drugs, a search.

Depression. I hold thee. I hold thee dear.


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