My favourite poem

Explaining my depression to my mother; A conversation
Mom, my depression is a shapeshifter
One day its as small as a firefly in the palm of a bear
The next its the bear
One those days I play dead until the bear leaves me alone
I call the bad days ‘the dark days’
Mom says try light candles
But when I see a candle I see the flicker of a flame
Sparks of a memory younger then noon
I am standing beside her open casket
It is the moment that I learn everyone I will ever
come to know will someday die
Besides Mom, Im not afraid of the dark, perhaps
thats part of the problem
Mom says I thought the problem was that you 
cant get out of bed
I cant, anxiety holds me hostage inside of my house
inside of my head 
Mom says where did anxiety come from
Anxiety is the cousin from out of town 
that depression felt obligated to bring to the party
Mom, I am the party, only Im a party I dont
want to be at
Mom says why dont you try going to actual
parties, see your friends
Sure i make plans, i make plans i dont want to go to
I know sometimes i would have wanted to go
its just not that fun when you dont
want to have fun mom
you see mom each night insomnia sweeps me 
up in his arms, dips me in the kitchen in the small
glow of the stove light
insomnia has this romantic way of making the
moon feel like perfect company
Mom says, try counting sheep
But my mind can only count reasons to stay awake

So I go for walks, but my stuttering kneecaps
clank like silver spoons held in strong arms with loose wrists
They ring in my ears like clumsy church bells 
reminding me that I am sleepwalking on an
ocean of happiness that I cannot
Baptize myself in
Mom says happy is a decision
But my happy is as hollow as a pin pricked egg
my happy is a high fever that will break
Mom says I’m so good at making something out 
of nothing and then flat out askes me if im afraid
of dying
No mom im afraid of living
Mom i am lonely
I think i learned that when dad left how to turn
the anger into lonely the lonely into busy
so when i say ive been really busy lately
ive been falling asleep on the couch watching
sports centre
to avoid confronting the empty side of my bed
but my depression always drags me back to my bed
until my bones are forgotten fossils of a skeleton
sunken city
my mouth a bone yard of teeth broken from
biting down on themselves
the hollow auditorium of my chest swoons with
the echoes of a heartbeat
But i am just a careless tourist here

I will never truly know where I have been
Mom still doesnt understand
Mom, cant you see
That neither can I.