and i will grow roses on my windowsill hoping you follow the butterflies back to me...//

I'm not scared of death,
I'm afraid of what happens after.

i still try to remember
to take my boots off
at the door

my feet are wet
from walking in the rain

i leave laetoli footprints
on the pine floor
-like the first man

trying to walk upright
but can't seem to
get it straight

There's a lot of empty space
in a house
so full of quiet

wishing for thunder.

r ~ 9/5/14

You can’t run from depression,
that’s why you feel like this again,
It’s a never ending labyrinth,
you’ll never find your way out,
a circle you’ll try to escape,
captious day after day,

It’s hopeless to try and flee from the pain,
the torment continues,
an incessant nuisance of despair,
you’ll wish away with every birthday cake,

Prickling needles that you can’t seem to numb away,
you’ll fixate yourself on;
flowers, the ocean, the color purple,
“I’m happy,” you’ll say as you braid your hair,
wiping away memories that trigger you every year,

Depression causes vexation,
you’ll pray to a God you don’t believe in,
wanting to escape,
but it returns some days,
a pattern you’ll try your whole life to vanquish away.

I beg for forgiveness,
as I sin every night,
but I can’t bare looking at the world each day,
knowing it will end,
maybe not for me,
but for someone else.