A friend is going through a deep depression. I tried to imagine myself inside his skin, and out came another poem. It begins
Dimness descends like a curtain.
Murk buries me, plugs my nostrils,
seals my ears; I hear nothing,
not even my own thoughts.
I wallow in my private pig-sty.
I want to move, but my muscles
have turned to water; every step feels like
wading in molasses....