I can’t claim to have depression all I know is I’m feeling


                  right now & too often & I don’t even want to see my own reflection it makes me sick
     I really try to be positive when tested
              like the entire abbey of defrocked monks busted for meth
       you know this disease seems sentient
     hovering in the doorway can’t shake its presence so I’m self conscious when I walk with it but you’re my first welcome audience
                   seemingly a bad joke dressed as a warning for holy men
                  when there’s none to be found
       would I could I should I show you the evidence
          I keep collecting things I discovered by accident placed in the fast lane I’ve got my windows tinted past the legal limit serendipitous


Authors Note: I hope your pillow is cold on both sides & I’m not sorry


One thought on “disintegration

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