i keep my depression locked in a box.
it's not a particularly large one,
or anything ornate
but a box nonetheless.
it's roughly the shade of a rain cloud
about to burst.
it has a vague beauty about it.
this box has the innocence of a small child
the mystery and danger
of Pandora's box.

the more i think about it
it's not just one box.
i have enough boxes,
to build a castle
much like one a toddler would build.
my depression,
my anxiety,
my fears,
my love.
boxes stacked,
neatly, rows.
they fit around eachother,
forming a larger box.

sometimes i wonder
if the state of the boxes
determines how i feel.
if the anxiety box is knocked to the left
am i more anxious?
if it falls off the tower,
am i going to lose it completely?

i keep all of my feelings in perfectly square boxes
each a different shade of rain cloud
all stacked neatly,
in order.

Naked branch:
Fall the last leaf
From another time.

Every second of the present
Escapes into the past,
At light and innocent pace
Of a careless blink.
It could have been the wind,
But it was enough the throw
Of a second by the world,
Without any regrets..

The leaf absent of life
It´s lost in the myriad already stretched,
Yet, much smaller
Than the one formed by the seconds,
Although impossible of being enumerated.

The outgoing moment,
Like the harmless blink,
Never was present
Before the decisive event
Pushed it into the past,
Less and less present.

Heat fled
By the light waters:
Sudden races.

Brief the clouds,
Endless drops stay:
Uncertain worlds.

Linden sleep:
Will the long street
Satisfy me?

Colors resound
At the clouds and the face
Always loved.

Golden wave:
Noise muted.
Hands harvest blows.

Cicadas sing
Cedars on the horizon:
Voiceless words.

Birds declaim
The feeling of wet
Earth in wet air.

Gray clouds ragged
By a thousand lightnings
Released in a look.

Running water:
I Run with the stream.
Which mouth awaits?