There you are
An old familiar friend
You were there at the start
And you’ll be there at the end

You had been away for a while
But I didn’t miss you
It’s a strange notion
Feeling blue

You’ve made me numb
To my brittle bones
You’ve made me feel
Not at home

A familiarity that’s jarred
A perspective that's scarred
A knot so tight its shakes my hands
And then
Departs

As swift as we were together
We are now apart
My stomach that felt full
Now feels starved

I was never good at goodbyes
For us, a near impossible task
There’s an empty space
That you had carved

We had been one for so long
So now I ask
Do I miss you?

It’s a strange notion
Feeling blue

Stars laid out before me on this ever haunting eve,
seem to laugh in all their glory, while I can only grieve.
For myself and for others, and all with our disease,
our silence is solace for the ones we'll soon bereave.

I've laid my last brick and the wall's standing proudly,
a monument to the filth which always surrounds me.
It is me.

And I'm feeling kind of good again,
knowing the bricks keep all safe from my sin,
that with time no one will remain,
bringing a day with the ending of pain.

Sometimes I struggle to peak over my wall,
jumping and screaming to no one at all,
wondering if anyone is out there still waiting,
and knowing they aren't is sometimes frustrating.

Of course there is no one left anymore,
and saddened as I am, that's what walls are for.
I did this with purpose and now I can bleed,
with no one to be hurt by my dying deed.

Night sits on my chest
Squeezes poems out of me
And grinds my poor soul

Writing poems
With the ink of my tears

I think it’s dark and cold down here, I’ve fallen down a well
Do not ask from whence I came, I was born in this cell
The mossy brickwork is the mother from which I was made
I am the slimy demon children hide from under shade

There is no need for living, I have no use for air
I am only sentient, not alive but I am there
I haunt the hole I live in, the angel of the well
I hear the young ones peer inside, they never ever dwell

I am the folklore you avoid, do you believe in me?
I am a children’s story you stand by childishly
It’s only superstition, there’s no girl inside the well
The girl that was in here was quickly sent away to hell

Throw your rusted pennies, make a wish, disturb my sleep
I am the muddy devil that will drown you in the deep