Once on a dark morning, at the dawning of Spring,
I sat at my window where no bird would sing
In my dark musty room that I'd come to call home,
in the dread and the stench where all hope was forgone.

On this stagnant spring morning I arose from my sill,
left my demons a'scorning to head for the hill,
to look for the sun, where it bloomed all about
in the grass, in the rocks, and in the wall's dusty grout.

I tore the golden blossoms from the ground where they grew,
and put them in a vase and filled it with dew.
I took them back home to my dungeon of stone,
prisoners I'd keep, sunshine of my own,
to rot on a table, and light up my space,
to share in my misery, bringing smiles to my face.

I gave them my love. I gave them affection,
for in their short life span, we shared a connection.
We were all flowers in a dusty rotten room
that once reached for the sky before accepting our doom.

Like branches of Daphne, more glorious than Apollo,
the daffodils shone in my sad, grotesque hollow.
And when they had withered, pathetic with hurt
I freed them from their prison and buried them in the dirt.

One year later, while the afternoon is still,
I drive by the daffodils growing on the hill.
How dare I admire them, growing lovely and free?
They are the essence of everything I'm too cowardly to be.

I'm sorry sunshine. I don't deserve you.

In my hands
I hold a bottle
Of fire
That burns away
The weight in my chest
Piece by piece
Sip by sip
Hello bottle,
My weapon of choice
On this stormy day
You and I.
Unstoppable

The rain falls down
The desert breathes again
And I awake from my slumber
to realize
The ground beneath my feet is gone.
The air is lively
as I left it,
The goddess
lovely as ever
But my feet I cannot find.
Victorious I emerged
From my long summer battle.
The illness is gone.
I've returned to my skin.
But I've forgotten
How to live..