Saturday, November 23, 2013

Clinical Depression NOS

To live in a clinical depression
Is to be entrenched in the midst
Of the polarizing opinions between
Two sides of self.

Today is going to be a good day.
Today is going to be the day that you die.

Today is the day I will feel handsome again.
Today every mirror cracks in the ugly wake of your path.

Today is the day I won't feel like I need to swallow a pill to function.
Today, you will swallow every pill that you own.

Incongruent thought processes cross perpendicular into mental crucifix.
Nail the ego here.
It is not fit to play the role of decision maker right now.
It is only bystander.
It will later be held hostage to the hostile syllables
Held at bay by the serotonin inhibitors you use
To sew your mouth shut in verbal ransom

This is the arrangement between the diseased brain
and the strained vocal cords.
Look closely.
Can you see the words crawling underneath your cheeks.

As the disease spreads, you will delude yourself
Into believing that the lack of oxygen
And forced isolation
Will give you ascetic clarification
Into how clearly obscure the world is in its design.

You live by the impaired logic of umbral understanding:

If nothing is knowable, then nothing is manageable.
If the mind is a beast, then the nature of the beast is to grow with neglect.
If I break my hands, then I won't hurt myself again.

This is wrong.
This is comfort.
This is dangerous.
This is comfort.
This will kill you.
This is comfort.
This is wrong.
This is so much easier than doing what is right.
It is comforting to relinquish one's self into the hollow rites of depression.
It is wrong.

Today is gone and it wasn't your day.
But tomorrow is a new day altogether.

Tomorrow is going to be a good day.
Tomorrow I am going to feel handsome again.
Tomorrow I won't feel like I need to swallow a pill to function.

Your ego watches from on the cross.
It is no longer bystander.
It is hostage
To hostile


If fucking for virginity is like waging war for peace
Then every war ever fought was caused
By a breakdown
In communication.

Every crush I've ever had was caused by
A breakdown in communication
Between head, heart, and soul.

The head says love the one whose opinions contradict yours.
You will never have a boring conversation.
So as someone who worships Kurt Cobain.
I sought out someone who worshiped Axl Rose.

They were fucking psycho.

The heart says love the one who can workout your body in ways
It has never been worked out before.
Calm down, this sin't going where you think it is.
Love someone who makes you want to do nothing
but 10,000 push-ups a day to exhaust every ounce
of energy you have until you have no choice but to

Relax - hold on softly.

The soul says love someone who makes you feel closer to God.
I dated a Satanist thinking that one man's devil is another man's God.
Sometimes, the only lesson you get out of a relationship is to get out
of the relationship.
Run quickly in the opposite direction.
Do not stop to look at the blood stains.

Regardless on how these three bicker and argue and contradict one another.
They can always agree on one thing.
Don't listen to the guy between your legs.
He doesn't know how to love anyone.
He is just a fucking dick.

The Therapist

The first time I went to the therapist
She told me that the winter is in my bones
Like the summer is in my skin
She said the technical term for this
Is negative emotionality

She said, you can combat the darkness with lights.
No, really, buy these lamp bulbs and stare into them
for half an hour a day and see if it makes you feel
any better.

I looked at her with the straightest face
My gay body could muster
And asked her
"Do I look like a fucking moth to you?"

She said, it depends, do you often dream cocoon?

I said, yes.

She said, do you understand?

I said, no.

She said, that's the first step.

I told her moths couldn't talk.
She said they can't be smug either.

Fair enough I said.
Fair enough.

I laughed as much as my gravity would allow
Without snapping my vocal cords back to
where the darkness lives.

I asked her, what do you dream about?
She said, I often dream web.
I asked if that made her a spider.

She said yes, in the least predatory sense.
If that's possible.
I digress.

I asked her, what's it like to dream web?

She waited, gathered her breath, and said with as much wisdom as possible:

Your time is up.
Maybe I'll tell you in our next session.
Fair enough I said.

Fair enough.