Depression's Impressions Variation Of Monotony In Monochrome Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Dusk dipped down into darkness scarred, clouds banked on moonless night,
day dripped away, its greyness marred by no mock mirage bright.
Time slipped upon faint wishing star that blinks, then disappeared,
tipped out of touch, so far, too far, trip never re-appeared.

Deep frozen tears suspended hope, vain on pain's background grim,
consciously compromising scope, sunk punch drunk, could not swim.
One moment paradise, the next grey black, life lacking spice,
contact lost through false pretext left cancer none excise.

Depression seemed to draw a blank across whatever's screen,
enshrouded clouds wreathed thankless plank from which steep dive is seen
to set scene's tissue to ignore all issues save but one -
which saves not, grave schemes may implore, cards stacked, play's distance run.

Monotony in monochrome detests solutions clear,
from fear they'd fail, fade, - fleeting foam surf on beached dream once dear.
Drab uniformity of view stretch sketched far-fetched second-thought,
impressions damp, dank curlicue etched round ground zero fraught.

Phantom features fear reflect, rejection plain in sight,
where insight failed to well inspect true options, day turned night.
Here no relief could interject heart's happy ending bright,
too difficult to recollect ambitions, past delight.

Anticipations which once flexed their muscles, wane, pay price
for trust turned dust, boom bust, lust rust, wan roll of Fortune's dice.
Prospects, perceptions no relief could care to integrate,
energy fizzled out as grief left too much on life's plate.

Regrets lethargic, half-convinced, primed pointless protest pale,
all colour drained since thrice re-rinsed through pressed guessed 'none prevail'.
Response half-hearted raised its head then turned the other cheek
upon some rumpled pillow bed, forgetting how to speak.

Conclusions on time's washing line flap uselessly forgotten,
hung after-taste lies wasted whine, all ends in feeling rotten.