Down, again,
and the anxious riptide in my brain
wills and drags me to sullen depths,
where the ocean bed is pock marked
with tears and fears and
ample insomniac nights.
Down, again,
and every fading couple in the street
with supple smiles and ignorant eyes
just make me want to waste awhile,
and shrink into a microcosm of truth,
a vast and endearingly unsubtle void.
Down, again,
and the shelter of my artless womb
is where I find myself wholly entombed
in bitter isolation and self-immolation,
to smother my feckless heart and cheer
as I watch it gasp and choke.
Down, again,
and every word upon the doubtful page,
each cluttered and endearing artifice
brings relief through its catharsis
and brings me slowly
back to dreary life.
Down, again, until I’m not.
Until next time,
my lonely, lovely
black dog refrain.
.
Steve is a literal starving artist.
Please keep the dream of poetry alive by supporting his worthy cause.
Steve’s first book of poetry, The All or the Nothing, is available now as an e-book from most online distributors. For more information,
click here.
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This is beautiful.
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Thanks so much! 🙂
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Wow, you managed to capture such deep inner turmoil and pain so vividly…it’s been the sort of thing that I’ve had to journey and work through myself some, and I really feel like you expressed it accurately and poignantly.
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Thanks, Leeanne. My life is basically one big bucket of s$&@ that I wallow in. I scrape up the dregs and write them down. That’s the heart of most of my poetry. 😞
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I’m sorry things have been so tough 😦
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That’s okay. Sometimes life is good, sometimes it’s bad. You just have to roll with it. 🙂
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While I of course don’t like you feeling this way, I do like this aware expression of it- “to smother my feckless heart and cheer
as I watch it gasp and choke.” 🙂
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Thanks so much! I have good days and bad days with my depression. Thankfully I manage it better now than I have in the past—I tend to have less lows than I used to, but they never go away completely.
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