I love falling without expectations,
seeing yes in the garden of your eyes.
Being blinded
as if the earth moved
when we are sharing
the same sweet skies.

I love feeling as if I have been struck
clear to my soul.
When I run headlong into your arms and find
the half of me that is,
only with you, becomes whole.

I love the moments when I can sit very still
and get lost in the light of you.
The brilliancy of your heart
outshines any diamond  
in expressions of love’s hue.

I love how you roll into the air
as a whispered voice,
from lips confessing love reigns
inside your heart.  
The sound takes me places  
where my heart leaps to start.

I love waiting to relive  the treasure
of velvet minutes I hold of you
in my memory.
They are the sweetest interruptions
and I will embrace them
forever, lovingly.

I am tired.
my thoughts
       drift


         downward


    like
                leaves
                       on
                  an
            autumn
      day          
        departing
       a tree's
           sustenance

        eventually
                            
landing on a still black pond
deep and lightless but clean.
        Clinical.
         and
          so the
            leaf
             sinks
to the mud encrusted bottom
that only I can penetrate alone.
A place where dark emotion is logic                          
and logic is simply gone, wrong, contrived.
No breathing, no solving, every semblance of
normality and happiness simply rotting while
I try to contemplate which of me is truly me.
Am I slowly gasping, forgetting, expiring,
or am I glowing, forgiving, exhilarating?

if depression is a pair of sunglasses
worn over the soul

then to remove them is the scariest task
for fear the world remains dark without
them

the tragedy is
not that I am alone

it is that I can
never not
be
alone

I want sleep

sleep is
easy

there’s no
pain in sleep,
no thoughts

I want sleep

easy sleep

sleep
sleep
and
more sleep

I would pay a lifetime’s ransom
for a lifetime’s worth of sleep

I just want to sleep
and that is all

waking is for the brave
and beautifully foolish

there is a world filled with soulless faces
lurking out there in the void
and we dream of this world and have nightmares
about this world and we fear what sort of men
might inhabit it

so rarely do we wake up
to find
the world already
here

we, the monsters who inhabit it.

well I wish I could be happy like all of them
so full of childish glee and blind elation
but I am man too deeply rooted in his logic and his thoughts
and unhappiness is often the cost of intelligence

I desire to enjoy like they enjoy, lust like they lust,
feel like they feel, so fully, with all of their being
but I am a man too harshly in touch in reality
unable to turn off my mind long enough to enjoy
even the simplest pleasures of drink or another’s
company