Depression (Dec. 2012)

It's just another lonely Tuesday afternoon.
Sitting by myself in my favorite coffee shop.
I sip my latte and then I notice this attractive guy take a seat near me.
But all of the sudden, my nose fills with the smell of gasoline.
And I know it's not you, but it's me.
I'm imagining myself doused in a chemical that can turn me to flame;
Burning out all the loneliness inside of me.

I think that the correct term for this is depression.
Defined by my psychologist as,
"feelings of hopelessness and inadequacy."
Defined by you as suicidal.
To me, it feels like being stranded on a 4x4 island
surrounded by quick sand.

It feels like each step I take just sinks further into the Earth;
swallowing me whole and then spitting me back out
because not even the dirt feels I'm worth something.

Depression means lying in bed at night for hours
with thoughts so heavy that you feel like your
head will fall straight through the mattress to the floor.

Depression means mascara stained cheeks every time you're alone;
it means swallowing your tears, choking them down so they
can find a home in the black hole inside your chest.
The same spot that's engulfing your organs, turning your flesh inside out.
All you want is someone to knot look at you as if you're breakable.

All I want is someone to lay beside other than the ghosts of everyone and
everything that's made me this way.
All I want is for my nose not to burn with the fumes of gasoline
every time I see someone that could've been you.