The distorted logic of depression

I’ve never found any answers at the bottom of a can
But it often feels better than the pain,
The turmoil and the rough touch of times passing hand.

I’ve never seen clearer through the powder of those extra pills.
It’s the wave of numbness
— disconnect.
And the promise of passing out in which I find the will.

I’ve never discovered the light in the darkness of rage.
Merely a release only violence can bring;
Pitting wits, unknown outcomes;
Through the blood, the spit and the haze.

I’ve never found reason in the condition I find myself in,
and I guess no amount of self-abuse will bring me any closer therein.

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