I know you're tired.





But I am too.

Simple but never dead
The words left hanging in the air,
Unable to catch them,
They fall to the ground,
Buried deep inside not to live,
Not to die but remain unknown,
Hidden from people left alone,
Covered in a blanket
Not long ago, left behind.

I still dream of you,
Not too much,
But sometimes, when it rains,
My mind wanders to your home,
Thinking of you.

can i die now...?

.

often   i am retrodden   after passing a lengthy sleep battle
day following day      i wake in and out   loftily bobbing
  nodding into conversation  and durring out          
                                 like a tiny failing electric fan
  struggling to appear present and take part
   then whirring   into a congested cumulus  

a colleague, (name slips me), sips her coffee
she dribbles her features into her colourful lap
her words become a slury chum of incoherence
(she may snap back if i have energy to retrieve her
she may  upon a whim   form another person altogether)

i have accumulated a D.S.C. (Depression Support Creature)
the opposing to what may seem                                                
                 this fella supports my depressions feature being
and monitor's my decline
fleshed out to drain me                                                          
      whilst acting as a detracting blurred vision
shaking in a drabby coat  and baring its dumbed face
i'm turned inward on drooping wealth                          
                           and rot in the anxious conglomeration
a distracted reality from reality already conquered
                         flagged and declared ;    
the phony thing that's real

i lay my body dough out                              
        a soft slab of relief                                       
                           cooled on the fire escape
                          loaning my spore to the night