Each
Day
I
Pray
To slay
My depression.
Never been a quitter,
But I’d like to quit this obsession.
This obsession with my sadness.
And with my social status.
It’s like I fetishize the madness
Endlessly raging
Inside of my soul.
And I swear I don’t have
A place to just go
And lay low
For a while.

A place where I don’t
Have
To
Fake
A
Smile.

Like an old friend inviting you to come inside.
Familiar. Comforting.
It will grasp you in its arms and hold you close;
And when you're ready to leave, it wont let you go.
You will beg and plead to be happy,
and it will put up a fight.
It will make you think that the only way to escape it is to take your own life.
If you are lucky, you can break free;
and it will sit and watch you from afar.
Calling your name.
Welcoming you back into it's arms.
It will intrude your thoughts.
Make you think you are worthless.
That you're better off dead.
Just keep telling yourself that it's all in your head.
Keep moving. You will get far.
Depression is not who you are.

I’ve never received a flower
Or even a rose
But I’m a guy
So it’s acceptable I suppose
No kisses
Or sweets
No treats
That signifies ones feelings for me
No token of ones love
But I have gotten
Disappointment
Watered with hate
Planted in betrayal
Fertilized with lies
And maintained by fakes
Roses are Red
But my roses are dead
And crumble beneath my feet

Come down, dear
That banister
its higher than it appears
Your small feet,
they slip so easily--
Climb down,
before the suspended
Bridge begs your ears.
I drowned once,
in my own refusal of answers--
I havent been that young
in years
Pudgy hands and forming fear,
Free roam can lead you
anywhere
Take my hand, dear,
Let me guide
the anxieties you hear;
Why listen
To desperate attempts
at mindless subterfuge--
Its more than one can bear.
Especially one so small,
so pure--
Come down, dear
Use the stairs.

Ludus to mania—
A love of playfulness
turned dark and
Estranged, a burgundy
of serial romantics.
When is enough?
does the obsession
Have an end,
Or will it continue
To be fed
by daily longing
And provocation,
a cruel satisfaction
From stopping the hearts
Of others, feeling fulfilled,
only to have the need
To do it
All
Over
Again.

Please weave your
nerves along
My bones,
my marrow is
your supper.
Please wrap your
never ending
absoluteness around
My eternity,
my endlessness is
your reward.

On on
both good
Off on
you pick me up
On off
I pick you up
Off off
We stop and rest