it’s almost like she’s dancing–

a final performance, an encore,

a bow at the end of a long day

a curtain closed over pointed toes

and years of stretches and early mornings.

it’s almost like she’s dancing–

a twist, a dip, head up and eyes closed,

swaying to music nobody gets to hear,

graceful at last,

the creaking floorboards her stage.

it’s almost like she’s dancing–

but she’s not.




take me somewhere quiet

and sit with me awhile

stroke my hair and hum to me

and hold me in your smile

make the world okay again

and let me take it in

remind me of all I’ve yet to do

and everywhere I’ve been

let the sun come up once more

so things don’t weigh me down

remind me that this will pass

pick me up off the ground

let me see the world as good

and know what I live for

let’s just sit and rest and be

and not think anymore.



I made the bed at 3 PM

I haven’t cleaned in weeks

I don’t know what I eat these days

I don’t know if I sleep

My laundry’s piled on my desk

And work litters the floor

I’ve lost the energy to live

But don’t care anymore

The world is pressing through the walls

I can’t get out of bed

I don’t want to be useless, but

I can’t escape my head

A day, a week, a month goes by

It all blurs into one

I fall behind, but guess it’s fine

There’s nothing to be done

Maybe I should worry that

The nightmares have come back

Or that I make myself feel sick

Or my life is not on track

But instead I’m tired

So I think I’ll close my eyes

Maybe when I open them

Everything will look alright.


prompt: depression is…

depression is

waking up more tired

than you fell asleep,

snapping at people

too close on the sidewalks,

fingers caked with mud

and dirty floors

that it would take too

much effort

to clean.

depression is

words like weights

that fall with dull thuds

at my feet, and

quiet music and

being too little

to hold.

depression is forgetting

who you are

and wishing you could

sleep away who

you were

because you’re not sure

if you’ll ever be



depression is

breaking and

falling and

lying facedown and

wondering what it means

that the world keeps on spinning

and sometimes I forget

that depression is also

getting back up




your words are too

weighty, too


for my tired mind;

my eyes are glazed,

my throat is tight,

the things you are saying

that you are doing

seem unreal, otherworldly.

they should not be

this distant,

but you are loud and heavy

you take up too much space

you have too much mass

for me, for today,

and it is easier

to drown you out

than take you in.




i would say i long for

nothing but sleep

but this would be a lie; i long for

dreamless sleep

uninterrupted sleep

restful sleep

deep sleep

the kind of sleep that

you wake up from and

feel well rested afterwards.

this sleep is


for me; this sleep

is drugs and broken

eyes and shadows

that pull from behind

each step like


this sleep


and refuses to be

forgotten or left

behind; it clings

desperately to my ankles

and refuses to be

shaken off.