I gaze at the dark skies,
said Nima, it matches
my depression in depth
and mood, sitting in
the hospital ward
in my private room
my parents paid for.
They come now and then,
my mother more,
to moan and criticise,
to moralise about
my life and deeds.
I wait for Benedict to come;
he brings me cigarettes
and chocs, brings me
news of the outside world.
I have met him in London
if the quacks allow me out
on a day or weekend pass.
We stayed one night
at that cheap hotel
off Charing Cross Road:
the bed was old
and creaked each time
we made love or moved
in nightly passion.
I do not think
he will come today:
he works all week days
as a rule; I must contend
alone with my mood
and mind and dark skies
and day to day depression
in my own way and fashion.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 2:55 AM UTC
I gaze at the dark skies,
said Nima, it matches
my depression in depth
and mood, sitting in
the hospital ward
in my private room
my parents paid for.
They come now and then,
my mother more,
to moan and criticise,
to moralise about
my life and deeds.
I wait for Benedict to come;
he brings me cigarettes
and chocs, brings me
news of the outside world.
I have met him in London
if the quacks allow me out
on a day or weekend pass.
We stayed one night
at that cheap hotel
off Charing Cross Road:
the bed was old
and creaked each time
we made love or moved
in nightly passion.
I do not think
he will come today:
he works all week days
as a rule; I must contend
alone with my mood
and mind and dark skies
and day to day depression
in my own way and fashion.
A girl and her depression 1967
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