won't be different
you will fix your crooked poster
she will say you're funny,
he will cut in line for lunch
you will trip while walking
you can fight it, you can run
sooner or later you will be alone again

so you climb on your roof and scream
to the moon, that silent son of none:
"it's not my fault
  it's not my fault"

he stares back, unforgiving:
"tomorrow will be a new day
  you will count the paint marks on the ceiling
  he will look at her and smile,
  she will call you friend
  you will say something wrong
  laugh if you want, cry if you must
  it makes no difference to me"

he tells you he will come again,
& in all of this, the question lingers:

They come to me as whispers in the night
Though they don't strike at night
They catch me in broad daylight

Large hands that wrap around my throat
And they drag me back

When I try to run, when I try to escape
They grab me by the ankle and drown me in the dark and murky waters they reside by

They've made it very clear they don't like me
The people in my head... they don't like me.

i tried to drink
my feelings away
until i nearly drowned
but their grief,
patient as a vulture,
kept waiting for me
even at the gates
of the afterlife.

An invisible parasite I cannot see,
Is constantly eating away at me.
Consuming me with patient consistency.
“I will not give up” I decree
But it just keeps taking silently

I wish only for it to break free
To decide it’s done with this gluttony
With this feast on my personality,
On my memories of being happy.
“It’s okay, I am still me” I say to myself desperately
But it pumps poison straight to my psyche,
With thoughts like they will not miss your pathetic tranquility
And just end this suffering eternally

As I think I am nearly ready
To face the music and run from reality
I pause on the memory
Of my quiet determined resiliency
Oh, I thought I was above this crushing parasite of melancholy
As it plagued me with its apathy.

I laugh at this thought manically,
That I could ever surpass this parasite as it destroyed me slowly,
‘Til I’m curled on the floor, breathing heavy,
Until I feel the only way to stop this peacefully
Is to surrender to the ending of this slow and painful tragedy.

Because depression lasts,
love isn't depression.
And neither is life - although
they may codepend - (
that's irony) -
and neither
is insanity.

Depression will make you do
The last thing you do.
Love, the first. Life, just the rider,
We the vessel. We are the vessel of life
And depression will dump us out. Love
Is our ultimatum, our insanity.

Remove the shell and make it raw life,
Raw water.