a poem

explaining my depression to my mother
a conversation

mom
my depression is a shapeshifter
one day it is as small as a firefly in the palm of a bear
the next it's the bear
on those days i play dead until the bear leaves me alone
i call the bad days "the dark days"
mom says "trying lighting candles"
but when i see a candle i see the flesh of a church
the flicker of a flame
strikes of a memory younger than noon
i am standing besides her open casket
it is the moment i learn every person i ever come to know will some day die
besides mom
i'm not afraid of the dark
perhaps that's part of the problem
mom says "i thought the problem was that you can't get out of bed"
i can't. anxiety holds me a hostage inside of my house
inside of my head
mom says "where did anxiety come from"
anxiety is the cousin visiting from out of town depression felt obligated to bring to the party
mom i am the party
only i am a party i don't want to be at
mom says "why don't you try going to actual parties, see your friends"
sure, i make plans
i make plans but i don't want to go
i make plans because i know i should want to go
it's just not that much fun having fun when you don't want to have fun mom
you see, mom
each night insomnia sweeps me up in his arms
dips me in the kitchen in the small glow of the stove-light
insomnia has this romantic way of making the moon feel like perfect company
mom says "try counting sheep"
but my mind can only count reasons to stay awake
so i go for walks
but my stuttering kneecaps clank like silver spoons
held in strong arms with loose wrists
they ring in my ears like clumsy church bells
reminding me that i am sleepwalking on an ocean of happiness
that i can not baptize myself in
mom says "happy is a decision"
but my happy is as hollow as a pin pricked egg
my happy is a high fever that will break
mom says that i am so good at making something out of nothing
and then flat out asks me if i am afraid of dying
no mom, i am afraid of living
mom i am lonely
i think i learned that when dad left how to turn the anger into lonely
the lonely into busy
so when i say i've been super busy lately i mean i've been falling asleep on the couch watching sports center to avoid confronting the empty side of my bed
but my depression will always bring me back to my bed
until my bones are the forgotten fossils of a skeleton sunken city
my mouth a boneyard of teeth broken from biting down on themselves
the hallow auditorium of my chest swoones with the echoes of a heart beat
but i am just a careless toiurist here
i will never truly know everywhere i have been
mom still doesn't understand
mom, can't you see
that neither can i