she’s got a hold of me this morning
anxiety
the bottom rung of depression pouring in through cracks in the dam so hastily assembled
like the little boy with his finger in the dike
and just as imaginary
as flawlessly recreated and flawed to fail spectacularly
as the feeling of dread washes over me
uncertainty
self doubt
drowning in six inches of water
unable to turn my head
chains wrapped tightly around my throat
blowing bubbles and hoping
against hope
without hope
this is the end
maybe then the feelings i don’t want to feel will fall into the current
swept away to another day
where i’ll be enough to fight it
everything is too much
this nothing that i live in
this void of ice and fire that flash freezes as it broils
and i can see no light
the exit signs flicker as they fade
i’ve abandoned dream
abandoned life
just to sink beneath this stream
i’m a pebble
not a rock
and my strength is trickling out
i’m a splinter
not a branch
all i have is incessant doubt
but she’s the only one that loves me
cradles me closely to her bosom
depression
how i hate you
and i love you
keep me buoyant
let me float downstream
toward the waterfall
and break me against the bottom
just drown me
in sweet memory
i’m flotsam
she’s the ocean
Mike's Manic Word Depot 
Okay, so about two weeks ago I was attempting to write a love poem about well being flotsam in his ocean. But it just kept coming out so depressed and it wasn’t beautiful as I pictured it in my mind. The words just weren’t there. Now, here, you’ve said it so well…. except you made it better. The depression and love, love and depression. You express it so well. I’m glad I gave up because when you published this I would have thought, now *this* is what I wanted to say! So good, Mike. So very good.
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depression is my muse this morning. I would have read yours and thought it was what mine should have been
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Well, I have now thrown that piece of shit unfinished poem away… it was garbage anyway and I don’t think any amount of reworking would have made it magically into any thing better. I’m just glad that you were able to express what I wanted to. That feels good. To have it out there.
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Untrash it and send it to me. I’d love to read it still
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