This Depression

is an ocean.

a rash between your shoulder blades that just isn’t going away.

feels like coming to

and remembering you’re alone when you thought a friend was sitting next to you.

like waking up from a pleasant dream

and trying fruitlessly to fall back asleep.

says, “I’m good. How are you?”

the guilt weighed in a bedroom full of possessions.

crawls up my throat, curls inside my skull.

greeting me after sunset.

it’s like losing your way

in a city where you can’t speak the language.

nestles beside my feet; my pet dog.


finds me even when

I’m hiding in

a better



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