Depression Tastes like Buttered Bagels

Fly like The Girl With The Bamboo Earring 2017

I vividly recall writing this particular stream of consciousness piece. I usually get inspired to write when I get hit with a really dope opener, a metaphor or a vision that pops into my head and I just have to write a rhyme around it or build on the theme in some clever way.

In this instance I was stepping out of the bodega on my way home after dropping off my daughter, who is supposed to start class at 8:35 am but we stay rolling up to the school spot late. Sometimes my fault, sometimes hers. I've always hated the heavy, grease trap smell the store leaves on my clothes, and I could almost smell and taste the depression seeping through the paper bag in my hand.

This is what I felt that morning. Please enjoy.

Written March 20, 2017 at 9:42 a.m

Depression tastes like buttered bagels from the corner store
Like familiarity
Big words start to float around
Abnegation
Stagnation
I look in the mirror
I think
I look good for my age and circumstances
Will he come around today
Will today be the day he wakes up and cares?
Do I even give a fuck
Anymore
Cause I used to
ALOT
Dragged myself across my kitchen floor
Sobbing weeping
Feeling my body being torn apart
Gasping for air the snot and tears flowing gently over my puffy pathetic face
Until you say no more
Til he's no longer your first thought in the morning upon waking up
He doesn't give a fuck he hurt you won't even admit he did
But HOLD UP
Pause
DID HE THO ?
A fuckboy a fuckboy
But he does not hold your heart to break or mend
Pluck it back from the ether
Your soul is solely yours
He never had it
You tried to pass it off on him
It might keep his heart company the one he keeps in the hand basket
As we walk parallel roads to hell together
I thought we would lie together
Cry together
I swear to god I hope we fuckin die together
His favorite rapper by the way
The G.O.A.T
I prefer Tupac ...
Oh and just to warn you I use the n word. ALOT.
You should too.
You ready for me to say it?
NO.
N N N N N nnnnoooooo.
Feels good right?
Like a sock in the hamper. SWISH!
Like when your homey comes through with a solid and you like
myyyy nnnnniiiiiggggaaaaaaaa......

Then one day, even if you have the courage
to look your perceived abuser in the eyes and state the abuse and ask for an apology
or even bare bones acknowledgement
Please note
You will not get it
You WILL NOT
you will get a blank stare
Mockery perhaps sympathy

I can't stand these evangelicals that you can't trust their levels of energy
Like he must be on coke
He never sleeps he drinks virgin blood he's a vampire
How does he do it?!!
You never know what demons they are concealing
Why exactly they have built up this towering personality
But we as humans we love to be awestruck

Ready to risk it all for a Narc 
We like that shit I can't front

J.S.