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Depression recycled
The thought of going home empty-handed
Too much to bear without clinking bottles
Swaying in a plastic bag like seasick genies
Empty life bringing home more emptiness
Even if it’s something to feel guilty again
It’s like welcoming Legions for guests
Something to keep depression company
Keep it occupied while killing the hours
The hours like Prometheus dripping red
Why does my heart regrow after insult?
How do others stand breathing alone?
So the five of us make a sad affair
Without a succubus on top of you?
Without Beelzebub offering a toke?
Without Bacchus opening the bar?
And Prometheus bleeding like an hourglass
All nursing my depression with myrrrh
Kings and queens to my baby in the manger
I hope depression will be crucified by day’s end
But before you go, turn water into Pinot Noir
Then I’ll gladly go home empty-handed
I hope you don’t resurrect, remain down
But, keep the faucet flowing while gone
I’ll pour a glass at depression’s grave
Watch the tumuli turn rust red
Rise up to face another day
You reborn with me like a Christ child
Crying for Pinot Noir and a Camel
How can I refuse your mystery?
Being born again sucks
If not for love returning
I’d be an empty hand
With depression where I am
Holding on to nothing
The five of us mourning
Your resurrection nigh
Ask forgiveness in the morn
Copyright ©
Triny Xiang
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