The Inner Beauty of Ambiguity

depression is the war
of the enamel of my anxiety
chewing me up and spitting me out
digesting my every life moment
preying on the ones I was convinced I’d forgotten

depression is the floating
the transcending
the inspecting of the dust mites passing
plucking them out and polishing them off
with each one, a phantom of a character flaw
stewing in the purgatory of thoughtlessness
that is paralyzing

depression is the aftermath
leaving me exposed as a live wire
splayed from my conduit of shiny copper
cutting ties with the vicinity
keeping the shock from committing causalities
narcissism displayed as niceties
the art of leaving everyone lonely

depression is the prison
of ambivalent acceptance
it’s the loss of legs
while staring out the wide open door
depression is a tease

depression is me