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Dec 2018
Frozen feet,
Hot oatmeal,
White noise,
Blurry letters.

Days melt into each other,
The passage of time now a soupy broth of numbness.
Distractions,
Sleep.
It’s not enough.

Dried up watercolours call my name,
Where’d you go?
I’m sorry, I’ve been awfully busy.
I’ve been carving faces into walls.
I’ve been eating my nails just to feel something.
No taste yet, but I’ll keep you updated.
good ol depression strikes again huh?
Anne
Written by
Anne  21/F/Canada
(21/F/Canada)   
623
     lucy-goosey and Fawn
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