Me, Many Days.

Does depression ever really leave you?
No. Not as a whole. In parts, yes, for moments, yes.
For periods of time one unwittingly gets off the blade that carves a groove into ones spine. And then there is still.
Free from sickness is to be free of mind.
My worries are my ill-health. My pain are my worries.
Aloneness is crippling. But what of numbness?
Is this delusion?
What of staring?
What of the chaos when the silence is not enough and screaming is unfeasible.

I find comfort in visions of treacle flowing; my guts on the floor around me.
I crave the freedom that endless sleep provides.
All I ask is to feel love, from where I don’t care.