Black Dog

A black dog has got hold of her again. She sponges her face to a more rigid mask of brightness. She has been depressed before but this trench she trudges through is full of muddied water and she cannot find a way out. At work she has to teach her hands to do things she has done a thousand times before. Then there is the mirror, she cleans and wipes it constantly but at each glace she sees her face blurring as it leaves for nowhere. She eats alone, The restaurant erupts with an air-conditioned laughter that makes her head spin. She drinks alone, then fills the empty wine glass with salty tears. She is not sorry for herself, she is sorry for the black dog that slinks in and out of her mind looking to be fed, but she will not feed it, she must watch it starve while she slowly climbs up and over her own daily bereavement.