This is a poem I wrote inspired by Sara four years ago in the Scottish Highlands. It's a bit depressing, but it's been in a drawer for four years and it's time I let it out. I hope I don't offend anyone. The poem is as much about my struggle with depression as it is about Sara's.
"Mental Illness in the Civilized World"
Life seems long
And I’m not excited
He cried as he spoke from the pulpit
Kill time
Psychic advisor
Kill time
Cigarette
Kill time
What I know, what I forget
Life seems blank
And I remember
She lay in a merciless room
Kill time
Travel to India
Kill time
Marriage vows
Kill time
Eyegla** design, telephone calls
Life seems cruel
And I’m weak with sorrow
It was the ninth month of the second year
Kill time
Out to dinner
Kill time
Others starve
Kill time
Mexican art, Asian cars
Life seems brief
And I’m scared and stupid
She hung limp, dressed in cherries
Kill time
Stiff drinks
Kill time
Used to be fun
Kill time
Impotent fingers grasp, futile and numb
