Sun thief.

It was a dimming,
Not a darkness,not yet anyway.
It settled then invaded my
mind, body, world.
Stole the sun just for fun.

Knowing now.

It never leaves entirely.
You just get accustomed to
the strange thinking
in both brains,
the one in the head
the one in the gut.

If science doesn't know,
then I certainly do.
Prove me wrong.

Cut off my head
disembowel me if you must
But depression lurks in every cell
And settles just like dust.

You can try to sweep it out
by hiding in a bottle
under sheets
under him
in shops
on holidays.

But the dust has settled,
best not to disturb it
by chosing any of those deflections.
The cells know what you're up to.

A single disturbed mote can
start the dimming once again.
 
And nobody wants that.

Unless you have no-one else to love
but your suffering.

It never leaves entirely.
You just get accustomed to it.