Bed

I hide from my demons in a canopy of blankets
Where my body sinks lower into a mattress
Until it envelops me and swallows me whole
Its smooth sheets offer faux relief and healing.
An octopus wraps its tendrils around me,
Wringing me dry of energy and motivation.
Its ink clouds my perception, till all is grey.
It anchors me to my sheets, crippling.
I fight tooth and nail, ripping at its appendages.
Each is like thick cement, heavy and stiff.
I manage to pry myself free, gradually,
One thick tentacle at a time.
Some days it hides, silent, dormant.
Unnoticed until it seems it may be gone.
But it still lurks in a cave in my amygdala,
Waiting to pounce on any given moment
And other days it is stronger than ever.
Wailing and shrieking, shrill, ringing
I can't move. I can't eat. I can hardly breathe.
And it has a name. Depression.
©spepticgrl