Blue Notes
Depression is merely an afterthought.
A reflection on deeds that cannot be undone
But our thinking is cut off from the action.
A circuit is broken in a chain that cannot be rejoined.
We are slaves to our memories
Being tortured in real (not imagined), time.
We recall everything from our own anxious center of risk
Hiding the moment we know to be true;
From ourselves, yet again.
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This entry was posted on July 6, 2018 by igorgoldkind. It was filed under beat, Depression, Emptyness, Existentialism, graphic novels, literature, Meaning of Existence, mental health, Mindfulness, new poetry, poetry, Poetry as therapy, politics, Self-Therapy, Therapy and was tagged with art, blue notes, blues, Depression, Life, literature, Mind, poetry, Religion, Self, Truth.
igorgoldkind
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