Depression

Temptation to commit suicide
overcomes me,
and I feel like I'm under the water,
and the water is flowing through me.
Death is preying on my thoughts.
I go into ruptures over the idea
of calling on Satan
because he is the one
who's always there, always unseen,
always tempting us to come.
I mean what I say
when I'm crying out to him.
I condemn God who's too good to be felt.
Through my skin comes my blood
to the surface of my hope -
the last hope to be dead tomorrow.
Satan made me used to my desperation,
and I'm incarnated as his favourite insect.
I'm growing sick of the air and the soil.
I spit out bloody vomit
then carried away by the running water.
I follow the Unseen to be lead into hell.
My breath becomes fire,
my thoughts become empty.
I forgot what it's like to be decaying
when my feelings were buried alive under the dust.
Black walls are staring at me -
I know they have ears, but their eyes are blind.
I'm offered my medicine to be taken.
It's too late to cry out for God,
and realization of meeting with Satan
excites my soul of which there's just ashes left.
Satan offers me his hand,
and I step into a long corridor
where the souls of the mislead
are chained to the walls.
Satan gives me the kiss of death
and sucks all my being right into him,
and with pleasure I give all I am to this creature.
It's better not to be myself anymore
and confide all that's left of me
to anybody or anything
who has the slightest need in me.