My Depression Has Sharp Teeth


The devilish imp still lurks

Slinks around me

Looking for opportunities

To nip at my skin

Pull my hair

Tie my shoelaces together

Trip me up


Remind me

That although

He has shrunk

In stature

He is not vanquished

He is not exorcized


From time to time

His hissing voice

Insinuates itself

In my ear






I would like to cover

His vicious mouth

With duct tape

Or maybe staples. . .


He still tries

To eat his way back into

My heart

Gnawing on my ribs

Droplets of my blood

Dripping from his tiny teeth

I pull him off like a tick

Throw him across the room



He cheers

Dances a jig

When his taunts

When his shaming

When his boney fingers

Finding a tender spot

Brings a river of tears

To my eyes

Pleased to see

That he can still flood me

Like a hallucinogenic drug

With piercing feelings

Of pain

Of isolation

Of aching longing

I am thinking of carrying

A giant fly swatter

Or maybe a baseball bat

Perhaps Hallmark

Makes a special occasion card

For uninvited guests who

Overstay their welcome. . .





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