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  • Writer's pictureLeyna Chan


Style: Free verse poetry.

Statement: The poem in no way advocates for the themes presented; rather, I wished to explore a personal perspective and confront this mental condition that has encroached on the lives of too many. If something feels wrong, hesitating will do more harm than reaching out. Depression does not discriminate.

No number of shot glasses he poured chock full of serotonin would alleviate the sheer depth of that gourd in his rib cage

Seated neatly between folds of marrow and ziplining on nerve endings

was a nothing that manifested into something

Too nothing to extract with the precision of a scalpel and tweezers but something enough to keep his eyes glued on the ceiling on tranquil nights and on sheer heights in the daylight

the miniscule ant-like passerby on antique model streets, the microscopic foam of churning torrents, the familiar burble of the creek over no-longer-jagged rock

Raised a glass to everything that could be just about nothing

Poured too much and let the packet’s contents splash onto the floor around his feet

Shards cutting away at him as they fell

Tiles tainted crimson mixed with a salty transparence

He stared down the sunset and waited for the sun to wake the hell up, only to wonder why he bothered waiting

Was getting harder to pinpoint why he waited when it did not hesitate to leave him sitting alone in the dark days and days on end

Getting harder to pinpoint why he could stand at heights when every neuron in his head wanted him to stop with the shots and realize he belonged down there with everything insignificant

Harder to pinpoint why he had nothing worth getting drunk on serotonin for

To pinpoint the nothing as his story’s antagonist made no difference

So he pinned it on himself instead

Rewrote the narrative for someone forgotten and misunderstood

Pondered, doubted, then promptly erased it

Recycled the sheet in the kitchen’s bin

Closed the door behind him

Dangled legs over the railing

Poured the last shot down and stepped onto the breeze after it

Ignored the sheer heights, the wind whipping at chapped ears

Chased nobody into the depths of nothing to escape




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