Archive for the ‘Депрессия’ Category

2014.01.29

Nothing is impossible,

it seems,

except improvement

of situation.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

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2017-07-08, 2335.55

Everybody but me

seems intrinsically happy,

satisfied,

moods improved by sunshine and warmth.

This apparent reality depresses me even more,

isolated,

feeling nauseous to the core,

violated.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Fetal Position 2

Quiet desperation?

Somewhat true,

my pain manifests quietly

on the outside,

like: I don’t want to talk,

as,

explaining pain

hurts some more again.

I sigh,

and walk away.

Inside though,

is a cacophony

of grotesque,

blasting noise,

on and on and on,

torturing,

deafening

and deadening

my soul.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Crumbling edifice

washed away,

piece by piece,

falling rain.

Shit! We’re all fake.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Confronted with an unexpected, inane, remark,

I reply equally stupidly.

Such is dialog,

communication today.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Time passes and context proves the undoing

of everything you hoped would be.

Like, this afternoon’s enlightening sentiment

buried by tonight’s depleted body

and spat-upon soul.

Still, the clock keeps ticking,

yes, the fucking clock,

the calendar,

people,

and various rodents,

continue,

conspire,

torment,

suck you dry.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

The Sun beats down,

all day long.

In the drought

and in the desert,

it’s oppressive.

No respite.

The Sun beats down,

all the long daylight hours.

… And when you’re beaten down,

it’s hard to get up.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Sitting on the bus

with the other convicts,

varying extents of self-awareness

on display,

I realize,

despite our differences

and hatreds,

we’re all the same.

Screwed.

Prisoners

of the choices

we’ve made

and/or

been forced into,

our names

long since signed away,

hopes and dreams

but a fading,

mocking,

memory.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

She tells me about her friend

and her problems,

so many problems:

medical, emotional, financial,

personal, general, universal.

She’s been mistreated and hard-done-by,

truly.

And to top it off,

she’s just turned 30,

she’s depressed,

she suddenly feels old.

Poor baby.

My heart bleeds.

With all her problems,

I believe,

she’s lucky she’s feeling anything.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Life, in this place and time:

a series of banal and futile exertions for which,

ultimately,

there is no thanks.

What hope?

What point?

What future?

Indeed.

And yet,

so many of us feel compelled

to breed.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat