I am brittle, not broken.

I am fragile, yet stronger than any part of me that ever begged for mercy from the sweet darkness that inhabits my silent hours.

My diagnosis will not define me. It is but a drop in the oceans of love that swell and ebb behind my vacant stare.

My mind may be tainted, it will often descend into darkness but it ascends to the light with such glorious grace that I am grateful for the duality.

I sometimes hold on too tightly as I quake amongst dreams of letting go.  White knuckles and curled fingers cling to the void that becomes my existence as my dark companion enters without pause or invitation and dances through my day with numbing ease. 

Today I will refuse to follow.

She grew tired
of having to hide
from her need
to look deeper outside

so she struck up a match
and she burned
down all of her prisons
and never returned.

Twilight's melody rises
mournfully dressed in lilac hues 
she grieves for the glory of the primrose sun.

The rise and fall of waltzing starlings
mirror the final breaths of the day
as with glorious mirth they beckon to the silvered chill of the moon.

I once had a friend called Mad Bob
who thought being a door was his job
he was perfectly hung
and disarmingly swung
with a sigh when you handled his ****.

And if these words should touch your heart
when dance they will past jaded eyes,
weave subtle smiles as tears depart,
from broken hearts and pretty lies.

And if my song it moves your soul
to dance in rhythm to it's beat
then I will sing until you're whole
and darkest fears admit defeat.

Then I will know I've played my part
in bringing light to fractured shore
and I will keep your hand in mine
until the darkness leaves your door.

your words
give me flight
like a child dreaming,

but childhood
dreams have all
of a lifetime to land,

silence rushes at me
as sharp and
as deep as grief.