Stillness of Depression

Relieved momentarily from the heaviness of a stuffed nose

Eyes no longer crying from the allergens in the air which they find so upsetting

Seated in a large orange sweatshirt—wishing the cat could talk

Environed in this artificial structure

My ears attuned only to the sounds I choose

My eyes to images the same.

“Maybe if it weren’t so bitter outside in February”

“Maybe if I lived elsewhere”

I would study the habits of birds nesting in my front lawn

Take walks along the river and contemplate green

Learn to turn wood on a lathe

Climb hard and often

Most of all this great invisible beast would be shaken from my back

Every step aches when he hangs on

Making me wonder about my own value

When the whole of the universe is centered around my experiencing of it,

Why worry about such things?

When emotion of any sort is only a chemical response to stimuli that I to a large degree can control,

Why give any credit to this monster, mutation, and maleficence?

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