#low depression

I called my depressed therapist the other day and

invited him back to live inside me.

I needed him to, once again, touch my inner, rich obsessions

and relocate all the commotion that was jumping on my 

new tomorrows.

I conveyed to him that many trains that left my station never

returned, but that these trains all left their damaged baggage and

that all of my closets were filled up with marginal memories.

I waited for a professional response to be thrown back at me, however,

the signal connecting us, died, because of shadowy medication.

Now, who will give me a rhyme to sing with, when I need to pop a