Roses are grey.
Violets are grey.
I'm a dog.

Yes.
I know.
It is irrational for me to think like this.
I poke holes, second guess
and jackhammer at my own foundation.
But, you see, I do care even when
I come off as crass or I dishearten
your image of me.

I
Just
Can't
Stop
Myself

These destructive feelings
and urges towards relationships
are deep rooted in a fear
of abandonment.
I'm a battered man.
Batting below average.
Yet, every chance I get
I bunt or try to get hit
because that's more comfortable to me
Than swinging and missing.

But I do care. I really just don't know how to show it.
I hold on too long to brief moments
that seem to pass from memories
as if I stole them. I'm just nostalgic.
It's the little things that are big to me
and the silly stuff that resonates profoundly.

I do understand though.
The burden of my depression
rests solely on my shoulders.
It's not something I can brush off or
roll over. I just hope that you all
bear with me as I tunnel my way
out of this insanity.

There's a primordial fragrance haunting me.
The first time I smelled it,
engaging in intimacy,
it became imbedded in the far recesses of my mind,
in a deep nerve center
& it never goes away.

I smell it while asleep,
in my perpetual dreams,
in the raging wind & the stillest of calm,
at the crystal-sand beach,
in the mystical forest
& on the highest mountaintops.

I smell it in my sweet memories,
on my fingers
& I love it.
I never want it to stop,
this beautiful haunting.