Teeth tear, rip, pull at strands of fat and muscle still attached. My head pulls back leaving gaping holes and strands of intermittent flesh. The agony; the piercing, unbelievable, dull pain hurts so very much. The flesh just consumed burns and boils and spreads in my gut, threatening me to puke it out. Yet I still have my bones to eat.

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Laugh out loud with smiles and joy.
There's nothing to be afraid of
save your blood that cloys there's cheer for little girls ...and boys!
Your words are ever not listened to
and the sky is grand and grey great!
People never always listen
and nobody everybody knows your name.
Why would you ever go somewhere when everything's the same?

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This was the first time I wrote a description about depression

Depression is a solemn affair. It's quiet and introspective in nature, an utterly personal affair. Describing it rarely tells anyone what it's like. Could you, should you step into it, telling anyone about it will lessen its hold...but it will only last a short time.

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Hey, it's great that you're alive
And you're celebrating reaching new heights,
but there are bugs below the rafters sitting in their hive.
They're waiting on a little something to make their worlds alright.

They work all day and you don't at all.
You're just sitting alone at home
because you don't have the courage or the balls
to make something of your rights.

You have 'fragile bones'
you tell yourself as if there were anybody left to listen to excuses made to thin air.

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Darkness encompassing the last friendly light;
Pressure and pain and that sharp cutting knife
Puncturing your skin with all its force in a fight
On any night, stopping your flight.

It burns and it boils
and for all of your toils
it gives neither hid nor hair
as you slowly suffocate from the lack of air.

Your bones ache,
your skin and muscles are shredded off
and for every quake
you drown and you cough.

It's warm, deathly so.
When everything seems to blow
and you fall.

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