Of sloths and depression. .

He seeps into my life
Under my bones making home
The dull ache settles as dust on ground
In my veins insects crawl
A constant itch to tear at the skin
Like a predator savouring its kill
Inside the caves of my mind
The bricks are falling now
I can’t move, I know
The rain comes down hard
The thunder is extra loud today
The weather conspires with me
Hiding my sin, I smiled
Nothing ever gets done anyway
The way it should
Always late, always stumbling
Oh sweet surrender, I close my eyes
The eternal bliss of numbness
The moon will hold her secret

One thought on “Of sloths and depression. .

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