We are not meant to live in pain.
Sorrow is not a possession.
Cries in night long sessions of ruminating is a virus.
Easily caught and seldom expelled.
Our movements kicked up winds that carried our wailing.
We tote burdens like a beast in a dance with no music and no lead.
Never to far from tears our eyes burn, our teeth grind, our thoughts slip through with no consideration.
We are islands by mistake and the tide has forgotten us.
If I reached out to another one my hand is rejected and the wind will carry my wailing.
My sorrow has become my luggage and it’s packed with memories of my hand being rejected.
So I set sail, but this wind won’t carry my wailing, but me, to offer another hand.
Do you know me? then shut up.
Teeth grinding and I can’t even see.
Lips pursed tight and thoughts on fire.
Muscles inextinguishable and reality on yield.
I put my hands around the throat of my invisible tormentor and squeeze.
I don’t wanna talk I don’t wanna listen I don’t wanna hear I don’t want you I don’t want me I don’t wanna come I don’t wanna go I don’t wanna feel I don’t wanna see I wanna be mad I wanna hate I wanna kill I wanna be killed I wanna hurt I wanna scream I want it dark I want it cold I gotta go I gotta disappear I gotta run I gotta choke I gotta hit I gotta kick I gotta burst I need to move I need stop I need to pierce I need to stab I need to bleed I need to be tight I need to be left I need to be alone.
The world is safe, all these things are Rage Turned Inward. That is depression.