La Depresión

I feel it this time, without ignorance.

Without discretion, as I yet again submit to a false corporate pretense of self.

Watching people happier than me explain how to appear happy to people happier than me.

All to maintain the idea that everything is fine, to tuck my white flag beneath my tie and hide my noose in my employee locker.

Artificial light flickering with the jitters of my caffeine rushed hands stabbing keys to complete tasks built for child like spirits.

People who laugh gently at how many alarms they sleep through in the morning, and think wine coolers will spice up their employee Christmas party with Marie and the girls getting wild because they want to feel just as connected as the emails pushed through their servers all day telling them what rooms to clean and where to be at what time.

Dull coffee in a white Styrofoam cup, sipping like it’ll save my life.

Six cups later and I still can’t manage to stay awake during videos of cheap actors shouting corny catch phrases like “showtime!” To themselves in a hotel mirror with a smile white enough to blind the sun.

Nobody does that, no one is that happy.

I need drugs just to smile, the over the counter kind at that.

A clean hotel room isn’t going to make me feel like a king; I guess I’m missing out on something.

Six hours of suicide, planning for it; It feels heavier these days, it weighs on me.

Haunting like fog that never leaves.

I hate the thought of drowning but it’s never looked more appealing as I drag my body past the cleanest pool I’d dirty with a touch.

I don’t understand what the problem is, so my brain just says “get rid of it”.

Get rid of the virus, whatever has infected my brain.

Attached itself when I was young and grew until it was larger than me.

Some parasite reciting all the ways I could make all the chatter stop.

I think it used to be a fantasy, but I believe it’s real now.

It rules my movements and the words I choose to use.

To my actions and my diet and the way I put on my shoes.

Rolled in with the smoke and hasn’t left, like the ridges of a scar I’m just trying to forget.

Yeah../ I’m just trying to forget..

• addisone