Love,
when you ask my long face
‘what’s wrong?’
– where to begin,
I don’t know;
Just now? Yesterday?
Nineteen ninety four?
Or,
the day I was born?
Aqua de Noche, Amy Friend 2010
Tag Archives: depression
Aching Tuesday
Five am chimes drowsy
buried in layers of dust moments
down in the bone trenches;
an old habit
creaking through sixty-two years of debris
casting feeble spots on the bedside wall.
Out there the pink is breaking grey
in rhythm with each muscle and cell
hurting back into senses.
Streams of water rolling down the throat
is louder than the clouds after the drought
but, it’s set even on the pattern on the drinking glass,
set in the programme
and part of the monsoon.
Sitting down with the walls
the last bit of love in the house spills out the window
to run down miles, miles and miles…
across the day that was just erected
out of dry twigs breaking crisp
under the weight of
the no man’s land,
the beastly nothing,
the doesn’t matter-
the deadweight of
Tuesday.
Picture – Art by Margaux Othats
Worst things
It’s the worst thing
when you have to hold on
to someone because you should.
It’s the worst thing
when you see that nothing lasts
regardless of good,
truth
or other recommended things.
It’s never good when
everything is better than approximated
but into time,
into liberty
you still see icy water.
It’s pretty bad to know
that the whether had nothing to do with
the way you feel-
It’s not so bad to think
that it is only just chemistry working.
It’s not too good when
the evening seems pointless from all angles,
It’s worst when
even a sunset too orange burns your tender skin
and topples your heart to break.
But, the worst of all is
that it’s only the worst thing,
Image by Arslan Ahmedov
