THE GREY
The Grey appears in a corner of the ceiling
No prayer, no plea can stop it
seeping slowly into view
The Grey
slipping down the walls
slithering across the rug and
slowly onto the sofa where I
sit paralyzed
Can’t leave the house
Can’t leave the couch
Now The Grey engulfs me
a nothingness
that is everything
Seeping inside
penetrating me roughly
like a bad lover
No drug can treat
Nor force defeat
this cement wall
this tightly grouted guest
Tomorrow or so
The Grey will snake away
And colors gradually
gratefully reappear
But for now, I sigh
slide on my shades
Open the door and force my way
into the day
Still grey
(c) 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
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EXcellent
ReplyDelete- reminds me of something I wrote years ago called "Blue Quicksand."
Very nice description of depression.
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