no. 1

this depression’s no joke,
got its hold on me,
can’t seem to shake free,
my constant companion,
leeching off me everyday,
nothing left to do,
nothing left to say.
strolling through the supermarket,
convenience canned and boxed,
shoved onto little shelves,
numbered and priced,
i search for socks,
my naked feet sweating into my shoes,
every store different but the same.
holiday music fills the air,
canned and pre-packaged too,
hopeful voices singing far away,
telling me that “love is the answer,”
but what was the question,
and why on earth should I believe you,
disembodied voices from above.
trying to lull me into complacency,
i’m only useful to you if I consume,
but what if I’ve had enough,
can’t stomach anymore,
what will they do,
the architects of our leisure,
when we all refuse?
mesmerized by all the lies,
we all believed in progress,
but somehow forgot ourselves,
i no longer know what to believe,
no longer even searching for truth,
just looking to escape,
missing the point altogether.
i think love is the answer,
the only real concrete one,
to the question of life,
but I still feel so hollow,
still feel so lost,
tripped up by my delusions,
wishing for more of something.