I’m pretty sure I know it all
All the list from top to bottom

There is situational depression
And seasonal depression
And postnatal depression
And manic depression

And chronic depression
But I have yet to read anything about
What goes on when I open my eyes

I’ve got inventory depression,
It makes me tidy everything in my head
then count the reasons i’m worthless

I’ve got glow-in-the-dark depression,
It keeps me awake at night
and I can’t stop looking at it

I’ve got diarrhea depression,
It might spray on some people I love
and it keeps me from going to parties

I’ve got high heels depression,
You can’t let anyone see how bad it gets
until there’s blood everywhere
and no one can ignore it

I’ve got cigar smoke depression,
I can’t grasp it but I feel it everywhere
in my throat and in my eyes and I can’t get it out
and by the way, who fucking lit this, I don’t even smoke damnit

I’ve got heavy-period depression,
sometimes it hurts and sometimes not
but the rules are unclear,
and one laugh can be enough
to realize that it’s too late

I’ve got take-out depression,
It might cost me everything I have if i’m not careful
but I’m tired of going through the numbers again

I’ve got pocket-watch depression,
I think I just got used to the sound it makes
so close to my heart

I’ve got herpes depression,
I don’t want you to see it
You might think i’m gross and dirty
And unworthy of your eyes
So I stay inside and wait
Because nothing will hurt as much as you
Never wanting
To touch my face again



Dessin: sur un fond noir, une jeune femme semble flotter. Allongée, le visage tombe de sorte que nous le voyons à l’envers. Son teint est cadavérique. Sa bouche pratiquement effacée. De ses yeux sort de la fumée noire qui monte en volutes.

Illustration par J Hay  


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