The truth about love
Is that there is no truth
Love is a chemical imbalance in the head
It doesn't last and always leaves depression in it's wake

I remember the
Morning she
Said "goodbye"
Instead
Of "I love you."
?Looking around
The room
Clothes hung from the side
Of the laundry basket,
Books sat half-finished
On the bookshelf,
Her dresser drawer, empty now,
Was still open.

A chickadee was
Singing outside
And her now vacant spot
On my bed was
A valley of
Forgotten pillows.

The blankets twisted
Like a river
Through it,
She had taken months, to
Find the right patterns
For them.

I glanced to the windowsill
She used to keep her
Hair binders on. There were
Small rings of dust
Around their spot.

I still sleep on
The right side of
And that chickadee
Sings again, every morning.

But the pillows and blankets.
Have lost their form.

***** depression, I've a confession to make
I was in a recession, now there's a rap session to take
Homeland protection, rhymes are fashion, none's the same
Infectious infection, it needs your attention as well as the fame
What I'm doing is passive aggression, don't bother with oppression
This is just my obsession, a crime, or rather a transgression

I doubt you know what half of those words meant
Here's a tip, that was me laughing at those curses you sent
I'm Batman, you're the Two-Faced Harvey Dent
Pay your rent, repent while I continue my ascent
Towards the top of the world, 100%, my content you resent
To a certain extent, this was made with a caustic intent.

These are my lines, so don't bother trying to reinvent.

Her voice when she whispers
Brings me back to childhood
Christmases, when shaking a
Present revealed the gut-tingling
Sound of LEGO inside.

you can't hear a whisper over a shout
screaming words from forked tongues
it's what they're blowing out
that we're taking into our lungs
all together, exhaling doubt
what a glorious sound that it becomes
the sound of us breathing out
a sweeter song was never sung