I can feel the gravity
savage sadness grabbing me
like a stabbing agony
panicking heartbeat rapidly

like a drastic atrophy
the tapestry of travesty
applicable calamity
catastrophe is my canopy

the faculty of tragedy
with no strategy for amnesty
the laxity of sanity
I can feel the gravity

My life is spinning out of control
I don't think I can take it anymore

I live in a shack
It just might brake my back

I have no money
Wish I knew a homie

Every month I get asked do you think about harming yourself
I always answer yes but no plans I'm  really just trying to fool myself

Don't know how long I can keep this charade going on
Why do I keep trying to make everyone think I'm happy like a swan

I'm so depressed I see no future ahead
Maybe I'm just a fool rushing in where no angel likes to tread

Only reason I'm still here is my beautiful children
Should I chill or run

But I wonder how long that'll keep my spirits up
I know it would hurt them if I just erupt

But what if they'd be better off with out me
Not having to worry about me knowing I would be set free

This year will be the first year I'm unable to give my children a wonderful Christmas
I just can't deal with knowing I'm unable to help with their wishes

Every year life just seems to get so much harder
My mind is getting darker

I truly don't know how much longer I can keep fighting the demons away
Everything feels in such disarray

Wonder what tomorrow would be like
Maybe I'll just squeak by and wait

I have oceans of emotions
but my mind is numb
These shallow lines of confines
my words have become

I've been strong for so long
but it's made me weak
And these screams in my dreams
are the whispers I speak

©

Dropped off in a desert.
Combat uniform tight against me.
Sweat gripping my skin in a desperate plea
For sanity to return, so I may escape.
Gunfire stutters its loud whispers of death against my eardrums.
Explosions drown out screams. My own?
I blink. The dust engulfs my body as I writhe on the ground;
Fetal position my permanent placement.
Longing for the ground to swallow me whole,
To the comfort of death's womb.
Cries of, "Get the hell up! What are you? This is a man's war!"
I get up.
The gun at my side like an old man's artificial hip;
Comfort and support in an unstable land.
I look at the chaos and depravity around me.
This is supposed to be Heaven to me,
Yet the combat boots feel too heavy.

Some call it bi-polar
I prefer manic-depression
It fits us better with adequate expression
We live our life in swooping loops
We strive at our peak then it droops
And the doleful drudge is destitute
Until all progress stops and stoops
To a halt, face down in mud and roots

And then we rise
Called back to life by a guiding light held deep inside
Sorely self-aware, we work until we burst
Droll desperation, at our best when at our worst
"Wow you got your **** together you lost and soulless ruffian."
Then we hit our peak and it all starts back up again

i am unconsiously
looking for him
in the nooks &
crevices of you .