tw for implied sexual assault
depression calls me home and walks in without warning. doesn't stop to ask if it can stay over, it already decided it is. it drags me to bed with heavy arms, kisses my forehead and tucks me into bed. it has chosen me for its new host.
yet depression doesn't let me play host for long - just till it learns its new body:
i point to my eyes:
these are my windows / if i am screaming in this body they will show the world.
i point to my mouth:
this is my door / if i want something to exit, it will find its way to the tip of my tongue
i point to my head:
this is where i am / this is who i am / this is where i stay
and depression takes my hand and makes me slip back into bed. grabs my heart and lets it flop around the bedroom till i am deaf to the sound of my body screaming. depression takes me into my bed and makes me feel safe sometimes. tricks me into thinking i just need to rest, i just need the sleep, i just don't have to care.
depression winds rope around my wrists
tape to my mouth
blindfold around my eyes
and their hands tight around my head
- and i can't move / can't move / can't move -
i don't know how to cry when it's over and i'm bruised but breathing
can't move when it whispers i asked for it
& makes me feel trapped in a home i built
but that's not how people see me. they say depression is a guest and i am its willing host. they say depression knocks on my door, asks to be let in, and waits for my consent. they say i climb into bed with it willingly, that i kiss the monster because i live off the sadness and empty eye smoke dream.
they say depression only stays because i want it to, that i can't let go / can't relax / need to just be happy as if i am not slamming my ribcage within my being trying to call for help but choking on my guilt
did i want this? did i ask for this? do i like this?
and depression touches my veins with its melancholic gloom, ripples my blood into an ocean of confused despair, tries to push me into bed with gentle nudges and strokes and i don't want it
don't want it
didn't ask for it
but it takes too long to fight depression
& sometimes people see a burning building but refuse to scream fire
& sometimes people see things but refuse to help for fear of making home inside for depression's desire
YOU ARE READING
THERE IS WATER IN THE SUN
Poetrythe world is on the cusp of its next rebirth, won't you hold my hand to see what we've become? © -immortalitatis beautiful cover by the equally beautiful @hurtcopain
