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a dust cloud

filtered

in sunlight and darkness

you wanted to be unsettled, disturbed

and so you are

 

With words, I want to bring forth tangible evidence of the bile lurking inside, luring me to death, over and over again. I feel pain, and I like it. I feel pain, and it’s unbearable. Then, I feel nothing. And repeat.

 

The next step is a “mood stabilizer,” which seems like an awfully late game play. Perhaps this might have been helpful on the front end. They add stabilizers when you’ve become “hard to treat.” No joke. Treatment-resistant depression, it’s called, as if it’s a cockroach that endures just because it can. It feels like depression is stronger than me, and it’s winning. Everyone tells me depression doesn’t last forever, but in some rare cases, it does. If it saturates your life and personality long enough, it’s a permanent condition. A terminal condition.  

 

youth is a deathtrap

we all fall into

 

SOB with me

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