In the hollow of my nucleus
  the hellion creature squats.
I made him out of my depression,
A ball so dense  
Thousands of knotted rubberised strands.
I carry this weight in a tight stomach.
Long sadness, compressed and hidden
Just out of the lines of social sight.


It’s mine, me, part persona,
History’s pain, qualified shame
As fresh as when
I constructed my imposter's house
Brutal concrete dream 
Built, in part, from young black dogs.

I take my depression wherever I way,
And also, my other fragmented lives.
To remember them in best order
Treasuring  the happy and the sad
In equal measure. 

Wrapped in drink to deaden the pain
Still damp with grief 
I map my journey, in hope and necessity
Ever seeking my gestalt just
As I believe, that tears live on in rain.

©️ david/dai fry 31st August 2019.