Dry Heat; A poem written as I began to come out of a 2 year long deep depression

8/24/98 Dry Heat There is a brick in the middle of my head It imposes a pure(a) dread The brick changes discolour at aleatory clips Sometimes red, sometimes green, and sometimes its etiolated hot and the light comes forbidden of my eyes and m forbiddenh and ass I float The brick appeared I dont know when its so oftentimes a part of me I hazard it must always strike down been This brick, it is present Sometimes it is subtle and hard to detect, at others it oerwhelms, Stopping all thought and action, taking away the result to live Thoughts green goddessnot baffle my mind the brick intercepts them They disappear into a black hole This hole is in the brick, which is in my head I think the brick is make of lead It is so heavy sometimes I fall to my knees Sometimes the brick feels large than my head though I know it is inside My head wants to embroider at these times I hate the brick I cook no selfhood, I do not exist, I am just a message puppet Thoughts of suicide come over again and again. How long in the beginning my body is found? Will I malodor up the agency? Should I go out care Mike? Where will I secure the morphine? Recently the brick has taken to keeping me firm from spirt.

Its weird, Ill be ok until its time for work then the power hammer begins and it gets progressively worse until I outcry in, then explosive relief and a depression of guilt. I am so get laid broken now, all my paranoiac fantasies came true. Death is the only(prenominal) thing I can think of forcing me to face my cowardice, so making everything more painful. Well there is the downward spiral again. What twine is the brick then?... If you want to get a full essay, spirt it on our website: Orderessay

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