The incessant dripping …

… into coffee pots

… into overflowing buckets on the streets

… of my IV

… in the bathtub, my head bleeding out

A stream is mighty, you know it can crush you and drag you away forever in an instant. A single drop is but the sign of a slow but certain death. Like Debussy in the background. You feel calm, you don’t feel stressed. But your soul is undressed. You hit your head on the table. You are depressed. So thoroughly depressed.

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