I wrote this poem years ago. A feeling.

Flavors of Depression

Why does it taste like repression?

Like ashes in my mouth

The aftertaste of afterburn

Tiredness resting on clawed feet

Perched upon my shoulders

A headache from Hell

The devil in the entrails

Vomit up stress and the pain

Shaking on the bathroom floor

Every day it pours

Even when the sun is shining

Outside is where I never go

Lost in the dog food aisle

Frown inside wearing a smile

Canít remember your name

Brother, where art thou?

Everythingís the same

Itís like coming out

To a church full of Lutherans

Damned for every sin

Blowing smoke up your ass

You think Iím OK

But Iím out of cigarettes

Canít stop crying

Canít stop trying

Alone in a crowd

Feel like I stole everything I own

Even the words to this poem.

© Anne Westlund 2007

Poetry by Anne Westlund The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 703 times
Written on 2007-10-12 at 08:08

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