i feel devastation, once again i'm here, trying to work through this, doing this job, sitting down, and doing nothing, being isolated, and it's hurting me, it's starting to really hurt me, and i don't know. the dream i had, the things that haunt me, and i don't want to ever see her again, and i want her to know that i still hurt from that, but she doesn't care, and it doesn't matter to her, she's off in her own world, yet her energy gives me joy, her energy gives me joy, and then it geos away, then it goes away, and then it huts, i'm left here with nothing, just an empty bed, and another day, just another day, that i have to give my best to stay above the wake, and just hope and wait, i just hope and wait. it's tough and it's in my head each and every day, and i'm trying to do different things with my life and see a brighter day, and I've seen them, like yesterday, no tears shed no depression set in and I had a relaxing day, and a productive day, and I felt the hope from her and I felt her inside and it was such a devastate. Now i wake up and it's another downer day. Because I know she's gone away. The thoughts that race through my mind are too much to handle, I can't really see it clearly, they just go trhoguh, and the images in ym head just stay with me. I don't know if I'm delusional, but some days i don't efel like a normal person. Yesterday I felt like I felt like I felt like a man. And today. Today. I feel like. I got that melancholy. I feel like, I'm in a haze. And I can't sleep at night, until it's at least 5 or 6, then I get four or five hours and wake up. I'm in some sort of abyss. It's a ******* abyss. I don't know if I have a problem but I think I do, I don't think I'm supposed to be this way. I'm not normal. I'm not normal. I want to see a better day. I might go to the doctor to see if I have some sort of problem, and I'm sure they'll give me something, but I don't want that to make me crazy, or even crazeir. I'm worried, I don't trust, I don't trust. I want to feel healthy, mentally. I feel hopeless. But I know hope is there, I gotta stick it out. I gotta get some help. I need to go to rehab. I gotta get help. Please, I need to stop feeling bad. Please. Someone help me.

Small and quiet, fluorescent,
the room holds anonymous faces.
People waiting for flu medicine,
hopes and fears and minor concerns about rashes
that we thought would go away.
Frequent urination
a tremor in your left hand.
A business man closes his eyes and kneads his brow.
He sits tensely in a blue upholstered chair
and smiles at me when he catches me looking.
Ruffling pages in magazines
like a moth's wings.
No mayo, rye bread, a nurse says.
Tapping her lavender acrylics
to music just low enough not to recognize.
Mind on shuffle, dreams achieved and
failed dreams of medical school,
little ones tripping and laughing out of double doors,
lining up to be whisked away in Suburbans or Geos,
carrot sticks uneaten at the bottom of a backpack.
A doctor sets a clipboard in front of her
and words are hastily typed into a computer.
And I wait for her to call my name.