Depression got the better - swinging me between
nowhere & nothing; shining-crystal parlour being
my prison & swimming pool escape freezing me
in a persistent domestic-pattern emptiness until I
wash dishes, switch on radio, tuning into the one
station broadcasting German music that had me
keenly turning the radio every which way until I’m
receiving deep bass Ivan Rebroff interspersed with
a crooning Dean Martin cocooning me safe within, I can sway and sing along while doing the dishes
A cocoon swiftly unravelling after my dishes are
packed away and only Neville Shute is between
me and sinking again, a sugar headache without
redress; fatigue led to sugar which led to biscuits
the circle is closed & I can’t break away, wearing
a frown and ears ringing, paying for the privilege
of being allergic - having chosen a life of subtle
suffering, only the soul gestalt would know if it
worked, to me life’s a mess which can only look
good adorned with glitter and filled with crystal
consciousness - though my crystals shine and
A cloth with silver glitter draped on pristine white
lace looks beautiful, the headache is an ace by
which depression wins this race….
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