Fragments on MDD

Post the electric fugue, the body returns as a corvus shadow, nickel thumbprints of stars pushing in vortex of the november black - tongue coiled dark. Hymn & howl.

Is sadness an illness? When the temperature cocks its trigger, the mercury jumps with its rabbit knees. I could swallow all the silver fevering the steel. I could tell you of the way the sorrow is slithers through each tissue  in a reptilian noose.

I am an apostle of science. I am also its rodent labyrinth, its lip-synching crash test dummy. Magnetic prongs nettle me to a red hypnosis. I am rope burn and blue suede. An ignition through the textile of persona.

I am alive in the conflagrations of this psychosis / a purring silhouette of silk / sheared by a tinder-tongued deja vu.

Let's play hangman, says the spiralbound memento. Let's incant the dramaturgy. Let's push a storm of placebo down the brittle champagne flute of your trachea. Let's kiss each medicine cabinet on its unlocked mouth.

From this angle, the floor looks like a fibrous infection. It’s limp grey is loudly contaminated. This is the architecture of an amygdala hijack. Teeth dug into the tapestry of the afghan, nails crafting little roses of anemic blood into the ashen oasis.

I am part ghost, part lighthouse, the darling glow of fuck-you gold. You are paltry in your coarse brass. You can keep barking your flat spleen. You came from an anatomy of rabid mouths, a gangling ego - a zealotry of those who are atlas-bound to the karma of a second brain hanging invisibly like a phantom limb.

Gladly, the experiment. Gladly the bastard courage of a fatherless daughter. Gladly, the hot needle, the ripe lemon; the earlobe blotted to ruby dust. The sharp treble juliennes each nerve. Skin now jeweled in the twin moons of grandmother's pearls. Something has to be split for something else to gush & shine.

Love begins as a single room. Love grows into a whole house. As much shoved to forget in the basement as in the attic. Heartache stacked like a broken stepladder. Tutored amnesia thickening the dust on each photograph.

We are a tilt of vine, sheaves of jade - I find your green pulse. My eye is tender to your small flame. 

And yet, all cutting is not harvest.

The mind with its weather of a raped and stockholmed Persephone.

When the heart has been robbed, every word sharpens itself to a weapon.

I offer you the myth of forgetting. Under the bed rocking itself into a secret exorcism.

I ask - Can I unoccur? And so you devour me to the aura of my bones. The skull fucked into an entropy of calypso moths. 

Today I didn't hurt. Enough.

Today I did enough. Hurt. 

MDD – Major Depressive Disorder or Clinical Depression

Scherezade Siobhan is an Indo Roma Jungian scarab moonlighting as a clinical psychologist. Her writing has been translated into multiple languages as well as featured in various digital and physical spaces and can be found in literary magazines, anthologies, international galleries, rehab centers and in the bios of okcupid users. Her digital collection of poems “Bone Tongue” was published by Thought Catalog Books and her full length poetry book “Father, Husband” was recently released by Salopress UK. She can be found squeeing about militant bunnies at or @zaharaesque on twitter.

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