depression

depression

somewhere between the coffee
with a sweet friend
and the three boxes of cookies
you brought
i felt a little more like
i might make it through the day.
the week even, possibly til may.
still i was afraid to go to sleep,
i might not get up.
but here i am, again,
surviving. it’s what i do.
and all the overwhelm
of work and the phone bill
and the ever present
possibility of eviction or accident or
simultaneous disasster
all the sad past
and inevitably tragic future
and all the faults
that damn me
and the seventy eight
mistakes i made before noon
​yesterday alone
are just a trick
to get me in the store,
where everything glitters
and is deadly.
i’m not buying.
i have coffee and
a lot of cookies.
it’s still dark out but the edges
lighten a little.