Art of Depression

I can feel my bones again today, the rubbing of ball and joint, the grinding of a sad and aching body.
I can feel my eyelids as they rub across my eyeballs, I can hear the pulsing of my heartbeat in my earsdrums, I can taste the tears as they roll down my face and across my lips.
I can see the hurt I feel reflected in your eyes but not in the same way I feel mine.
I feel so misunderstood and no matter how hard I’ve tried to pluck the right words out of the air above my head they’re never quite right to explain exactly what I mean and then it’s lost forever and I spiral, down down down around round round across and over and under like a rollercoaster or the spaghetti-ing of so many bridges on a highway and I don’t know where to go and my brain can’t shut itself off for a single fucking second and I just want to scream and I just want to cry and I just want… to die, really.