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Every Day a Little Closer

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Juvenile Hebeloma.

Every day is a day closer to death.
Yesterday I didn’t want to live.
Today I don’t want to live.
No doubt tomorrow I won’t want to live…
But I live in hope I don’t feel that way…
Or I live in hope I don’t live.

Death, the feeling of wanting to no longer live.
The answer to the question which hasn’t been asked.
The ultimate answer in the dark.
The answer not asked for.
The solution to the unstated problem.

No longer wanting to feel life.
No longer having to feel life.
No longer having to feel an answer,
To a question never asked,
A question never asked for.

The smile hides,
The laugh confides,The humour buries,
The zany disguises.
I wear my veil.

I never talk about myself in blogs, if I do it is as a third person, it/they, those blogs were never about me, they were/are about how the world makes me feel or how somebody else feels or exists. Today I start to talk, unashamedly, about my ongoing depression, my acute, severe, clinical, psychosis depression. What ever words ‘they’ call IT. The Emperor with no clothes, the elephant in the room, my ghost in the machine. My clouds, my smog, my…

Every day is a day closer to death.  

 

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2 responses to “Every Day a Little Closer

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