Poem of Depression

I am the Ego . I am the All-Too-Measurable . I am the great Inferiority . There is no half full or half empty glass My vessel holds no water I am the anti-Christ of honour From the vantage of the depths of Tartarus I look down at myself: the cursed prodigy of inadequacy - Of unabridged stupidity - I am Despair’s beast of burden Even my tears are corrupt: an overflow of swollen vanity I would be pitiable But pity is not small enough to find me - The self-deluded - The hypocrites - The epitomes of common fraudulence Of such I am Not even in my sin am I Unique. I am a convoluted masochist I would injure those who love me So that - via their sorrow and horror - I could justify my self-loathing I shall have no hope of a lover Only a needy and emaciated soul - A dreg of humanity - Could be tempted to share the fungal rotten apple That is my existence But to such will I submit in the end Out of craven animal necessity Impotent for hot or cold, My soul simmers eternally lukewarm I am vomit out of your mouth . I am the art and science of disappointment . i am sorry.