The room drinks the light until it’s gone, walls sweat a dull, unending gray. I wake already out of breath, the night still clinging to my name. The mirror keeps my outline thin, a hollow where a face should be. I move like water through the day, but nothing ever moves in me. I can’t quench depression’s thirst on me. I pour myself and still it needs. I can’t quench depression’s thirst on me. It drinks my hours, it drinks my sleep. I carry weight without a shape, a drought inside my ribcage hums. Each hope I raise turns back to dust, before it even learns to run. A drought inside my ribcage hums, Each hope I raise turns back to dust. The clock gnaws circles in the dark, time chews my nerves to wire and bone. I beg for rain that never comes, the sky refuses what I’m owed. I beg for rain that never comes… I can’t quench depression’s thirst on me. I pour myself and still it needs. I can’t quench depression’s thirst on me. It drinks my hours, it drinks my sleep. I kneel before an empty well, bucket lowered through my chest. The rope burns palms, the echo laughs, there is no water left to bless. I can’t quench depression’s thirst on me. I bleed in sips, it still insists. I can’t quench depression’s thirst on me. It will not end…… It will not miss…
