Dead again
Today I have been mostly dead.
Since getting up, I haven’t had
A sense of life inside my head.
I’ve done some useful things today
And haven’t felt depressed or sad;
But nor has cheer come down my way.
I did not work this out until
Late in the evening, coming back
From shopping, as I climbed the hill,
When in the still-hot air, I saw
Inside myself this feeling-lack;
No flicker of emotion raw.
We spoke a while back, and I said
To you that I did not feel down.
That’s how it is when you are dead.
And now – well, now I feel a tear,
A tightened throat, brow-furrowed frown;
This feeling, though, I do not fear.
I know that if I had gone out –
Down to the gym, along to bees –
I’d have no death to think about.
But no: “I can’t be arsed,” I said;
And so I withered, by degrees,
And spent the day just being dead.
Why do I let myself do this?
Why fall into this zombie-state?
Perhaps there is some cue I miss
That, if I caught it, I could shake
Myself alive; but at this rate
There is no progress I could make.
Well, that’s today. The night’s drawn in;
I’ve written this now; and I hope
It’s purged the rot that lay within.
So now, I take myself to bed
And thoughts of you might help me cope
So that, tomorrow, I’m…not dead.