feeling claustrophobic in isolation,
and like the lone survivor in crowds,
you can't sleep naturally at night,
you need medication to drown out your thoughts that bring sorrowful sounds.

in your ears ring those melodies of realism,
that sing solely of failure and defeat,
these songs written with melancholy chords,
that only seem to loop and repeat.

the process so dehumanizing,
you can't progress through the morbid cycle anymore,
so you press a barrel to the roof of your mouth, as stress neatly lines up and files out the door.

cold metal had never tasted so sweet,
and in these final moments, part of your cement core splits,
rainwater finally leaks in and your thirst is quenched as it fills your lonely heart, the desolate desert ditch.
feeling something real for the first time since who knows when,
only at this time, the moment of your end.

however, in your death your depression becomes recycled,
and now the numbing blanket will be passed to another,
until the day someone strong enough possesses it,
so it can be burned above amber flames, resting in ash along with its true color,
*black.

lay numb in the snow
gazing at your future home
waiting for release

you inhale more smoke
taking more small steps to death
to feel more alive

i peer out from my bedroom
to see the same tree standing alone
covered in moss, wilted branches, no leaves
this tree is dying
but this tree cannot voice its pain
this tree is deeply rooted in the ground, knotted with fungus eating it away
nature has destroyed both of us
but this tree cannot chop itself down
so i shall hang from the best branch left
that way someone will have to chop us both to the ground
and we'll have worked together to end the other's hurt
its rotting wood can be salvaged into a coffin
and we can rest beneath the soil where nature cannot get us

I can write well again,
Because I can feel it again.
It's been an awkward few months away from you,
I wasn't sure how to act when you were gone,
I interrupted our relationship with a psychologist and something called a positive outlook.
But now that I'm back looking up at the light rather down at the darkness,
I can tell you its a much quicker fall down than it is the long climb back up.
Welcome back depression.

your soul rested on mine like first frost
join me in this blissful sin
it must be crime for me to hold an actual grin
lay in this icicle hammock above frigid clouds
your soul phosphorescent
shining through my hollow cove like the brightness of first snowfall
who knew winter could be so lonely
the sun is right there but it does not warm me
it echoes my call for you but refuses to respond
the stars only hum your name
reminding me that with the spring our love has melted like the snow
but new flowers will not bud, although everyone has promised that with time they will grow
you are my only flower
even when you are shrouded in ice
i love your cold touch
it ripples through my body
illuminating cozy christmas light

all was silent as they sat,
taking in the ocean as it flowed like quill with ink.
each stroke so masterful, yet so dark,
so deep.
the open water stretched for miles to come,
"but, what do we do now?" she says
"we enjoy it.
until it's done."
and the bomb fire rained over head,
war taking souls with each stroke of death, all so dark,
so deep.