Depression

describes depression as an essence

This depression is like a slimy oil
that has slithered its way into my soul

It almost seems to be alive lurking,
hiding from me, I almost grasp it
when I find it but as always it
slips through my fingers

It has spread through my body like a
poison leaving its stain on everything it touches

It has coiled itself around my heart
making it stutter as it tries to keep beating

Its sliminess  sits in my lungs
like pneumonia making it hard to breathe

I try daily to fight it but like the muck 
that it is, it sucks me down into its
pit of despair

I take many deep breaths throughout
the day, everyday, these are times when
I am almost too tired to fight, to strain against
the oily muck

These are what I call my "give up" moments, when
the struggle is too much, when the fighting feels 
like I'm actually drowning in quicksand, but I
take a strangled breath and push on

Will I ever be free from its grasp or will 
this putrid essence win the battle?

I do not know the answers to these questions,
so for now I must struggle on.