Welcome back to Therapy.

The background was brown, a grey heavy smoke, tumbling up from a cigarette- mouth,spoke, and the darkness was swollen, in the recess of his eyes, and his static voice was one I could recognize. So real, was he, within my mind's eye.

"Welcome back to group therapy"

And there was I. Once again. Dripped in sanitary white. Scrubbing my brain, feed my oxygen, medicate it to be 'alright'.  Here I am, Roswel Hofmann, revisiting in the dark. My imagery of darkest dreams guiding me to light.  But alas these magical thoughts, are the fuel of my lethargy. No human seems to speak my tongue or share alike in kinds, so I came and sat and built you up from the scraps of my dark mind. Now I return, with swollen eyes too large for sockets and gritty lies too slick to speak of. 

You see. I cannot help but cry inside to see the day return. I cannot help but die inside to sleep through this winter. I cannot help but lie inside to reclaim my sanity, and I cannot help but hide inside to mask just what I see. 

I remind you, Hofmann. This is no depression. This is a crisis with my existance and coping with the matrix in which I've unfortunately spawned.

In this limitled void of structure and reason and infinity and beyond and miniscule multiverse in the hearts of atoms, and the thick sweet blood I watch pulse beneath silken flesh, coursing through supple veins to feed meaty holes. It's reality induces the king of fears; the fear I am alive. The weight of intestines within disturbs me, as well as the reminder my essence and percievings are processed to shit by a fucking fatty 'machine' cradled in a thick mass of fucking bone.  

It's to the point where I sit and I bathe in the shit of my insanity and there's nothing to do but scream. It's like a child who cannot speak, lost in the crowd and attempting to find their mother. 

But alas, it's like a welt in the sea.  It comes and goes, and is strongly felt....It shocks me once again into paralysis, then passes and leaves me supple  once again to the bullshit I've got to put up with to blend in with humans. 


Fuck me, right. 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741