Me and Depression
Depression is rich and succulent.
Like BBQ sauce hand prints in the kitchen.
I rest up in case I get energy someday.
And that might be zombie energy.
It still crunches the bones in my hand when I try to have bones again.
Every chair is a big yoga ball bouncing away.
So I unravel my makeshift mind and chase things like that.
Useful.
Everything is just shapes.
Like my rectangular bed that is like a spot to set me away for a while.
While someone else goes to the store and buys the last pizza crust.
Maybe I’m Depression after all.
And she left me here with the dust bunnies.
She rested up to get energy.
And I let her take it to the store like the person she is.
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