Punk Psychology

Asylum Room Table

Depression is occlusion

The narrowing of aperture

A chrysalis constructed for

Permanent residence


Within such restricted perimeters

Growth becomes a source of pain and

Disfigurement, the body an abhorrent

Personification of confinement. This

Is the true source of Dysmorphia



Depression is agoraphobia the

Conscientious application of

Margins and limitations, an evasion

Of expectancy and uncertainty.

It is the denial of responsibility

And consequence through the

Omission of conscious undertaking


Depression is not the imposition of society

On free will but the volitional surrender

Of alternative to justify avoidance of decisive

Action, it is a protracted automation devised

Not of self-hate but of fear, it is an intense aversion

To being observed. (Does not the mere act of

Discernment alter? Does the heart not betray

Vulnerability when handled or scrutinized?)


Depression is the abuse of logic

The need to define and understand

Especially that, which by its very

Nature, defies the perimeters of

Human language. Intelligence has

Become a form of slavery, of bigotry

Rather than the expansion of ideas

It has become the collapse and

Consolidation of preferences

And prejudices, a rationale

For the familiar, make shift

Tiles to avoid groundlessness


Depression is a form of perfectionism

It prohibits adaptation or deviance, it is

The desire for achievement without

The necessary expenditure, the desire

For a flawless victory by virtue of genius

The idealized savant who does not suffer the

Deviance of an accompanying disability

It is the desire for gain without loss, for

Life without death and the fatal resignation

To assume stasis until which time such a

State may be achieved. It is the acquisition

Of masks to disguise the volatility of

Human nature, a denial of expression

That excludes pleasure and pain in the

Same measured breath, it is the

Desire for control over that which

Is above manipulation. The threads

Which connect become the threads

Which entangle and eventually choke


Depression is trying too hard to

Be good, to be healthy to be normal,

To be anything other than what

One is  in the present moment, it

Is a crippling toxicity,  that

Comes from ingesting too much

Of what one already possesses. It

Is the failure to recognize beyond

The vice, beyond the appetite,

Beyond defense that which is inherent

It is a devaluation of self that excludes

The possibility of success and nullifies

Even effort, it is the preemptive evacuation

Of relationships, a continual smoothing of

Rough edges, until the nerves are exposed


Ever notice how we equate change

With capriciousness? With selfishness? With

A weakness of character and spirit?

Depression is not rejection by, it is retreat

From, it is a fear of expansion, a desiccation

Of the synovial resulting in a grinding

Rigidity, momentum becomes a source

Of pain, the arthritic wearing of an

Uncompromising architecture


Ever notice how abandonment means both freedom

And dereliction? As if an autonomous mind were by

Its very nature perverse. As if to exercise one’s

Authenticity guaranteed alienation. How clever

A language that we fear dissension and by

The mere label of democracy assume chains

As if submission were the true measure of one’s

Loyalty. We love those who validate rather

Than oppose our paradigms, we favor symmetry

Over honesty, status over evolution. What is love

If it does not invigorate? What is life if not

The path by which we find enlightenment?

Of what significance am I if “I” model

Myself after an unattainable “you”?


(I am still sick, I still have a headache but I wanted to do this for Mental Health Awareness Month. This is how I understand my own Depression or rather my destructive underlying psychology I don’t claim it as universal definition or anything. I think this probably comes as much from Buddhism as Psychology)