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Depression is a Cunt

A spoonful of night, self- medicating. A stretched day of casual dismissals; hey sunshine, the more I'm smashed the more I give.
Her language, sympathetic to silence, as I binged on a monologue;
Some kind of sick-suck,
I'm the crash
at the bottom of the stairs,
Waiting for the accident to happen.
She is in snow hypnosis,
etiquette of a pulse
peeling her oeuvre,
wall washing sunshine into light.
It's past midnight and I'm spooled.
Diminishing into unsaid words
I recede out of my room,
like a reclusive boss counting workers,
remote, far, impossible to see.

4 Aug 17

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pretty killer.  although not crazy about the title.  I'm not a fan of depression but I am a fan of cunts.  also, line 2, a quick suggestion.  omit "as" and change "binged" to 'binge' for the sake of tenses and make that bit its own line?

"her language, sympathetic to silence,
I binge on a monologue"

line 7--maybe change "the" to 'an' ?

like it much nonetheless.
 — JKWeb