A Sample of Depression

Working with the cries of the demons tonight, music is trying to spring out of my molested head. Hollow fractions of expected pain have crept into the crevices of the cracked wall. And the inevitable horror of a beautiful rose is becoming pale with every drop of water it swallows. My body shivers and my fingers tremble. The glass jar has fallen to the ground, shattered. I just sipped boiled water to purify my soul but it tastes like carbonated oil choking my slender neck, helping me sulk. Wine is sweet, brings out the flavor in me. A room full of untouched dead leeches smells similar to that of a baby being born. Gregarious. It just grabbed me from my shoulders, forced me to bend and respect my cult of fall. I’m bound to adhere to my addiction, promised to remain high. But, it’s a delusion, fake from its roots. My grieving sighs appear vague to the light of power hurtling me to bury my franticness for warmth. I want to fly in the dusty earthiness of the ground. Shall I jump to taste the peculiarity of the other side of the world? Words that heal are spoken to calm the ugliness of what seems in real is mental illness. Can they hear the witches croon?  They sing the song of melancholy, dwelling in a dorm of gestation. And my heart it’s pregnant, with pessimism coming from? Silent. They might hear me talk and announce me severe. But I’m a carcass of china, delicately painted, replica though, of raw tissue re designed. It’s going to deeper, where will it take me? How can it be stopped? I’m going with it, till it breaks off, maybe then, I’ll try to figure out and find a way to kill the wolf.



07/01/07
12:10 am