Depression Tips Its Hat

Depression Tips Its Hat

Here I am, in a strange world, a place untouched by me. My thoughts squander on the edge of lonely. Soaking up the this odd air around me. My heart feeble in its rhythm, depression walks in, tipping its hat with a smile. I grin, as I know him well, but never wish him to stay.

He sits now, at the foot of my soul, waiting, just for that inch. That unprotected second I fall to his dull whimsical show. Playing lullabies I thought were laid to rest long ago. But this place, this strange place untouched by me. Reeks of the familiar, reeks of left over crumbs of my suffering.

And I try, I try, I swear I am trying.

Keeping the hunger at bay, the hunger to envelope this appetite to crumble. To set fire what minutes ago was happiness. What a gallant smile stretched across my face in excitement just moments ago. But somewhere, somehow, from there to here. It disappeared, it became a ghost to my presence.

No, leave me be, I say, as depression tries to worm its way. Setting up a table for two, but my side is empty, no plate, no food. Just a glass, filled in the apathy of my weary heart. Soiled in sadness, so tempting to drink, to sip. To savor an old flavor I, for so long became a connoisseur of its taste.

No doubt there is comfort in this lonely hull that has weaved its way into my bones. But I must not be a cynic to this moment, this place. For it holds no true memories, its fresh, its new. But the setting seems all to familiar, the scene seems all too old. The halls feel of the dead, of tears smeared in late night debauchery of emotion.

 This place, this world, this place untouched by me. I pray for a hand to let me enjoy a moment of peace.
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A Man's Traveled Heart

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