My sole confidant
In my darkest times
While everyone else is asleep
Is near by the church
I grew up in.
He played trumpet -
They carved that in the stone
They placed in the earth,
Nearly a month after he died -
3 days after I turned 13.
It rained that day.

I had a dream that there was promise in the future
That my days dug in a hole, so deep,
That I never saw the sun rise – were a fading nightmare.
But my nightly sweats and twisted sheets
When the sun arose, planted seeds of fear in my psyche.
That fleet-footed knight mares rode across starscapes
Pulling shades and twisting
Warm fantasy
Into hallucinations of other me’s
Dying a thousand different ways.
I had a dream that the demons in my mind,
Results from God’s imablanced alchemic formula that made my brain,
Declared a war on my central nervous system,
That I fought in with breath, and blood, and tears, and sweat
(Eyes scrunched shut, and hands over my ears)
That was eventually termed O.C.D.
And I sit in offices and wait for elaborate flourished script,
That I exchange for the antidote,
For the depression flowing through my veins.
Eventually sitting awake,
Waiting for a song to soothe my tired eyes,
To touch some part of me that I can’t reach on my skin,
And send me off to sleep.
And I am tired –
Tired of the night wars
Waged in between starscapes
And daydream streams.
I’m tired of feeling weak,
When I’ve stood vigilant against
The death cries of a thousand other me’s.
I’m weary of feeling empty,
And afraid of my inability to close
This sadness wellspring,
Would lead me to see the backs of those I love,
Leave me, on parting words and ashen bridges – falling down.
(And if God has ever blessed me with anything,
It is how many incredible people,
Care about insignificant me.)
I had a dream that I was finally free,
Of shackles and bounds and fetters,
That tethered me to ol’ seductive Melancholy,
Warm tears flowing from my eyes,
As I embraced smiling friends, knowing that I
No longer needed to vent, or share the weight,
Or had the desire to die.
But I hear whispers in my ears,
Cold fingers gnawing at my rib cage,
Telling me my life isn’t worth anything.
And punching my gut to toughen me up,
Is outdated, deep seated Masculinity,
Shouting at me that I’m not a man,
Unless I’m wrapped in sheepskin or wearing fatigues.
And that every little slip of a word to the contrary,
Of the face I put on when I’m at my worst,
Is a weakness I must **** and shoulder my weight,
Alone.
I had a dream
That a miracle man could crack open my head
And sort out all the pieces that didn’t fit
And study all the places where my wires had been
Haphazardly ******* in wrong.
And I begged for the miracle surgery,
To alleviate this darkling stain,
But what’s frightening is – I can barely imagine myself without it.
I once looked at myself in the mirror, and wondered if it was better on the other side
While I practiced my lie of  “I feel fine”, code for standing on the precipice
Of suicidal decline.
When really, it was just for me.
Is a lie a lie if you believe it? Because that’s why I say it on repeat.
I once had a dream that I was loved,
And that’s the one I try to forget.
As I hold a candle close to my eyes,
My last daily reminder of
Still-living hopes light,
Before I risk a night of sleep.

I have faith in medical science
But little in practice.
Straight spined doctors
Racing stopwatches against
Their appointment books.
Extolling the virtues of thousands of years of medical research
But unable to consider anyone's opinion other than their own.
Kindly, soft-voiced nurses shuffling from
Room to room
Doling out condolences and reassurances
Paired with regimens
Of drugs and IVs.
While Old Time in the ticking clock
Slows
To a dead crawl.
And the noise of heartbeats on machines
And discussions out in the hall
And loved ones distracting and pacifying patients in beds
Layer on top of one another to form a firm blanket of
Crushing. Boredom.
And the antiseptic smell does nothing to ease
The passing of time spent waiting
While the medical machine spins its wheels
To the chime of slot machines.
And the bustling rush outside a curtain
On hard white floors,
Does less than lend a sense a peace
But more of frantic urgency.
Minute long - task oriented visits
Where they know names, numbers, and insurance coverage
And they know how many steps it takes for them
To lend more of their valuable time
In that modern balance of cost and care.
Leaving me wondering,
Where did the connection go?
I wonder where peoples' trust went
And when it was replaced with,
"How much will this cost me?"

Hair in sun
I wove my red bike
Inbetween the road's midline
Crying and screaming
"Please, hit me"

When I was little
And the hot world outside my house
Was blessed with summer rain
I’d stare outside and be lost
In a world only I could see.
As I met others I found
That this place of collective consciousness spiritus mundi
Was shared by others
Beautiful tapestries of adventure awaiting just around the corner
Shared time and time again.
But time is the passage to the great equalizer to the end
And fireflies that shimmered behind our glowing eyes
Dimmed as the calls of Neverland and lost boys faded
So playtime was replaced with homework
And toys with video games
And imagination became madness.
So when I tried to exit reality in my early teens
(When I was younger
I’d be lifted by an angel into the starry night sky
And see the Earth illuminated
By spiral staircases made of rainbows
Leading the dead to Heaven
Where I’d meet God on their coffee break
For wisdom and advice on staying alive)

The state of Massachusetts sentenced to me to a hospital for my brain
And I decided it was a bad idea to confide in my psychiatrist
That the wind spoke to me
And told me the secrets of the world.
Beyond the brightly colored pills
That are washed down my throat
I look for an answer to madness
Amongst the hundred voices in my head
And auditory fever dream
Hallucination delusions of hearing my name.
The answer is always the same.
Stable sanity is serenity
Imagination is devoid of practicality
The lone child in the back of the classroom
Staring out the window daydreaming,
Will be the first in the unemployment line.
Are we human beings or trees
Being fed on a steady steam
Of halogen and pixels
Recirculated air
And to others who work at computers replace the use
Of that landscape of infinite possibility.
So I’m left to ask…
(When you wake up from a dream
Where someone loved you
You don’t remember their name
Or maybe even their face
But you’ll remember the ghost of their touch
On your skin
The warmth of their body
Pressed against yours
And whispers in your ear
Of things you never hear while you’re awake)
How can you prefer reality
When all that you ever wanted
Is just a moment away
Past the darkness when you close your eyes.
And embrace that you’ll be lead
Behind the white door
Leading to the white room with padded walls
Labeled madness?

It begins with your body shaking,
And then your hands clench into fists
Nails digging into your palms.
You’ve felt it build for awhile now,
And feel it well up,
A dam about to break,
As you hear your heart beat,
Bursting in your ears.
And your eyes close by reflex,
As your jaw stretches open to its further extent
There is the noise that causes people to stop and stare.
That makes hearts speed up,
And others wonder why.
This is the raw primal scream.
Do you then slam your fist into a wall,
Again and again until your knuckles bleed?
Or do you grasp yourself tight,
And crumple into wracking sobs,
Gasping for air?
This is a colorless scream.
Simultaneously devoid of feeling,
And filled with every feeling within you.
The desire to die every waking moment,
And that stubborn will to survive.
The rage at being powerless in your life,
Frustration at continuing to **** up,
The cry of trying to be better than who you are,
But not sure why.
The howl of two wolves,
Gnawing at your insides,
You no longer sure which you are feeding.
This is the scream that can crush mountains,
Raze a city,
And deafen all those in its range.
At the end of your rope,
You stand upon the brink of nothing,
And deep within you all you feel that you can do now
is scream.
But then you open your eyes,
And nothing has changed.
So you take a deep breath,
And try and ignore what you just did,
But wonder if it was even what you needed.

In sweat and hormones
Bodies entwine and lock lips
Above, stars explode