Depression Sessions,
Without making light of those trapped in the dark,
that setraline sentimentality exposed modern art.
Theres a cavity in the canvass,
despair and distress,
decayed daily until theres only just the crevasses left.
I digress,
your highness.
High times, crash down finesse.
What did you expect?
Now you're acting as if theres nothing left.
When in three days you’ll make the same mistake again.
Just to take the pain away.
Or so you say.
But you’re not depressed.
Stressed, maybe.
Tired,
jaded maybe,
but the lights not faded you just took the wrong road that day.
Now there’s no way of coming back.
You’re not cool for that, this isn’t a cul-de-sac.
You keep taking me back and I just relapse.
And collapse after the session,
ready for the sentence.
Repentance a breath away.
spoken word