Have you ever felt so lonely You could die?

You’re on a plane, taking you away from Home Every dimly lit window the eye of Some nuclear, despicable arachnid, Armed with its melancholy venom. “Depression hurts.” Depression is a knife, and isolation the handle. So why do we cut? Once, I sat alone In that airport Hoping for something to move, For my thigh to quiver, For something familiar to thaw me. But I froze In that 105 degree Florida sun. Perhaps a Frappuccino would serve my purposes better.

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