A Sonnet On Depression

I feel I am being pushed into pliable and yearning ground

Sinking within this body-body backlash

A vessel that I can not bare to bruise anymore

Folding into a life I could hear, muffled voices

A kiss- I could taste but not feel the flesh of

Experience the excitement of anymore

A pity party on paper, there are no guests

Tangled string life- (I am) a house cat who only plays

In the mess- manifested by a blasphemous subconscious

Looked at from outside my built-up barrier

With adoringly condescending sighs

Bleeding from my eyes, tears made of recycled remains

Floating above my bed

Dread from the malicious thoughts I am spoon-fed