Depression

    is a lot like sleep paralysis
there’s a demon at the door
shape black raw macabre shadow
it’s been there for hours-months-years-ever
    and you know it’s not real
    but it’s right fucking there

    lets you struggle and strain against
invisible chords keeping you motionless
    voiceless
    almost even breathless
as you try to say something
    anything
that will convince the beast to go away

    makes you think that it’s you
who’s not strong enough to fight back
    shrug it off
who’s the one that’s really dangerous here
    you bloody you
who opened the door for the lictor
and didn’t close it behind him

    grabs you by the ovaries and twists
while you fold in halves disgracefully
    an origami swan
    without the wings
braids the most poignant tragedy with
    your fallopian tubes
    leaving you barren
    lifeless
    lossless
    helpless
but for one thing:
    I will wake up.