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March 24, 2018

Come morning, come the depression,

Will it be open? Will I descend to see?

I’m easily lost, here in my hometown,

I listen intently, for sounds lead me home.


And I sit. I’ll see no one,

Artificial. Superficial …. attempts.

Facts are rarely stated. We give opinion,

And my opinion’s false: here, at any length.


Will this be the second? A second,

I’m a second, a third. Perhaps a fourth.

All came with too much ease. Now, it’s hard,

I dream of ease. Last night, I dreamt.

It was lucid. All was ease,

This is not a second, nor a third.

Not now. I’ve work to do ….

All this. All this is of no importance.

Little. A song: sounds instrumental, but no,

A cat dreamt of solitude. He wails.


Music accompanies a depressive’s morning, always,

Why now? It’s somewhat psychosomatic.

I do not wish to find it shut. This brings chaos,

This chaos exacerbates all. Hair falls in the eyes.


One extra line. Four extra lines. Chaos,

Exacerbation. I’m exacerbated. Why sleep late?

I sleep early. It’s natural, they say,

Same vest; different pants, jacket.


He’s never written an instrumental, I believe,

Wisely. Fine paper. Not for he who turns fast.

Rapidly. Right to left, oddly they say,

An explanation can always be forthcoming.

If he desires to speak – this is rare,

Tuesday: talk will be forced.

A profession, poorly chose ….

Forced on him, by a saint.

A saint in her own words,

Now departed. Oh, the mess she’s left behind her.


They squat here. I know nothing,

My standard response. Don’t think of me.

Go down the hall; second door on the left,

I’ve improved: today I showered.

But I will not step out. Is it the drugs?

I propose this theory, to he who believes in drugs.

I need to see him. I must,

I abuse drugs, but I consult also.

If all consulted, all would be well,

Don’t self-denigrate. I’ll do it for you.

Ah! But do what? A conundrum,

I’ll do it anyway. Once, I’d accomplished much.

Don’t change a word. The words remain the same,

He conned me: it’s no longer my work.


A private enterprise, no, never,

Her kitten died slowly, whimpering loudly.

The whimpers were heard all round,

You’re ruining our future’. Thank you, dear one.

It’s a pity for your travesty of a face,

And just what do they say of this face?

I like my women ugly, etc,

Is it just me? Possibly.

Breaking even. Breaking the evens,

Unintentionally, possibly.

But, dear one, I heard you,

Is this love legal? I can no longer deal with it.


And you? Dear one? Do you break even?

I believe not. I believe you were gassed out.

Gassed out by shield wielding madmen,

Policemen by another name. Do you need aid?

I loathe granting this aid to the broken down,

Very wise, idiot. And now, we do what?

We mop. We allow the floor to dry,

No. I didn’t see it, and even had I ….

It’s all falling apart, at the seams,

Old pants? So they say. I hear voices.


We like hearing voices in these times,

It’s always an exaggeration. I’d have survived it.

Woman’s voice drowns out a man’s. It’s quite joyful,

After this, we change. The countryside ….

We mourn in this countryside, quite quietly.

Are there rules to follow? Abstractly,

Yes: I quite like their company, legal or not.


A pause for thought. It’ll cost you,

Why I know. We’re always breaking records.

And hearts, in love letters, paradoxically,

Love songs are always joyful, and we apologise.


Let’s get this party started’. An idiot’s words,

One wonders if he recalls them.

He once called me, after I erred,

I needed not his compensation.


A writing retreat, for a buffoon,

I’ll leave like the others. The aid never came.

Don’t mock me. But, we don’t mock. Why yes,

This has calmed me. Missing books ….


A slow song. Shall we dance?

Not that type of song. He eats, irregularly.

Two by two makes four. Two plus two ….

Pride. In the suburbs there is, of course, pride.


What makes for a pair, or a book?

Why these innumerable languages?

In one mere continent. How these accents?

Today, you disappointed me. I know.


He walks his own path, and normally defends,

Not today. Today I was knocked about.

Not by you: I find you charming,

You who find your way from a broken home.


Will I be present? I hope for illness,

I’m already ill, so they say.

Respect, they know not,

One word changes the story, so they say.


Eating alone, to be free from all,

Conversations burst all around.

I make myself small. I disappear,

Don’t attempt comfort. I’d prefer it not.


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