Depression is a 100km drive to work
and not remembering
even getting dressed
It’s concrete for blood
Smothered by small spaces
Cerebral jelly dropped
on the kitchen floor.
The sad days are ventriloquism
of insincere enthusiasm its
one big waiting room to life
It’s boredom of living with the
same sadness which is actually
just fear of living with the same
Depression is a constant apology
All the heartbreak without the loss
I wish I could say it feels like a sledgehammer
but really it’s biting your cheek after
a local anesthetic, actually,
every mundane task is like pulling teeth.
It’s playing the same board game
over and over, the one you’ve
never really won unless
the opponent sensed you were
giving up entirely
It’s too many scrabble tiles
and too little words for
too big feelings.
It’s the physics lesson I never needed
because I was always too heavy,
It’s no one ever knowing the gravity of
Though trying to define depression
through poetry and metaphor
might be as pointless as the sadness itself
I still do it.
It reminds me pointless can still be beautiful.