Heavy as Such It Is

Bubbled up, bubbled up —

despair, depressed,

nothing comes out.

Heavier and heavier,

as such it is.

I envy the dark floating clouds,

ready and precipitating,

trickling, bathing, soaking.

Where is mine?

When will it come —

that storm to break me free,

to hug me with open arms?

Heavy as such it is —

still,

nothing comes out.