Life had a way of making the completely mundane
A big deal.

The pits of depression,
Like the drags of boredom,
were common and impotent after a time.

It came to be that only the truly dark
And morbid,
Would leave any impression at all.

I’d like to think I grew stronger than my depression
Or that boredom was now positive reinforcement
But I knew never to count personal demons out
Lest you wake up in hell.

I lived without fear of what they could do to me
Now
as I found myself unconcerned,
Budden said the thing about depression
Is that you can’t do worse than what
We had already thought about doing
To ourselves,
And he was right.

The fear left me years ago,
and had only popped up in glimpses
Almost as if it was a bad dream,
And fear is a bad dream,
The worst nightmare,
Because it can choke your heart and end you fast.