I was sitting on a bench
Once
And was measuring out my life
Day by day
When a happy, friendly, squirrel
Started to hop along my way

He looked me over once
Then twice for good measure
He chewed his chubby cheeks
Then smiled with pleasure

It's simple presence
Calmed my whole being
I breathed out my troubles
Then began again, with a new way of seeing

You tell me that I'm needed,
That there's something I don't see.
But I'm scared to let you see it,
This thing inside of me.

I'm not alright,
You should know this by now.
Because I'm hurt,
And I am broken,
Don't make me tell you how.

You tell me that you know me,
That I have that 'certain spark'.
But the only thing you'll get from me,
Is a twisted and broken heart.

Dear bed,
Thank you
for always being there for me
Like a dog for his master

I can always count on you
To be there for me
at the end of the long day

Your soft sheets and blankets
Like clouds in the sky
Ready for me when the day is done

Your frame
Sturdy as a skyscraper
Supports me off the ground

Whenever I don't see you
I can't function
With the lack of sleep

I know it must be boring
sitting in my room all day, waiting
But you are always there happy to see me

At the end of the day
I jump onto your mattress
And float away into heaven

Thank you bed
For always being there
Ready to embrace me at any time

What if stars were candle lights
Burning away
The flame so bright

What if love was post-it notes
Left scattered about
Quick thoughts of hope

What if dreams were floating clouds
Changing shape
Pure and proud

What if thoughts were old snail letters
Happy moments
Of cards and cursive letters

What if rain drops were butterflies
Falling gently
Wearing dresses and ties

What if Mondays were a lively ball
Flowing long dresses
With men standing tall

What if the wind were a music box
Whispering songs
Without any talk

But what if stars were candle lights
Burning away
Their flames so bright

The cat has a limp and a white patch on her eye
one ear's pointing down and one up,she gets by on a tin
of sardines every day,she catches the mice and expects little pay,but
a stroke and a kiss is something I wouldn't miss and she likes me to say,'kitty looks lovely'
then she'll lay on the rug and tug at my toes as if she already knows that it's time for my walk
if only,if only my kitty could talk,she could tell me such tales of mangy moggies,the males of the species,
but she can't,never will and until I speak Marmalese she'll just sit there and purr and warm up my knees.

Please come hold me
I am not ready to exist
Please unfold me
I am not ready to be this:

a complete structure
rather than
a series of parts
and pieces.

I am not ready to be this.

Too much time to think
has guided my mind to fall
back into the black hole of depression.
This one I fear I will not be able to escape.
Its claws are gripped tight
around my neck like a hanging rope.
I feel my feet slowly being lifted from the ground.