Depression is like molasses,
The gunk that fills up your joints
And stops up your head
Every time someone asks,
Can I get a gift card for $20?
What time are you free tomorrow?
How do I get to the nearest gas station?
The language I have spoken my whole life
Has suddenly become a jumble of noises
I can’t decipher.
Heady, unshakable exhaustion
Leaves me sputtering and frowning
As an undercurrent of prickling anxiety and
Burning humiliation warms my face.
Let me go check, I utter
(I don’t miss your puzzled look)
But you will move on
From the hard stop to the flow of things,
And I will become
But an irksome smudge on your memory.