I have this quote in my diary. apparently I was already reading Erich Fromm as a teenager. I don't remember reading Fromm that long ago  BUT I can definitely recommend the books: "the Art of Love" and "The Art of Human Destructiveness" because those are two books I have given to friends.

I walk with dead birds lay across the ground

I walk alone with air humbly abound

You've seen me wandering around without a sound

And the pale morning confesses my sympathies

“Hush, you’re being guided by instinct. Hush now, as you walk with dead birds that lay across ground”

The connections of my lifetime are now bound by city sidewalks

Sometimes I walk ahead when there's something I can't pronounce on my mind

and I end up at intersections and homeless men

Empty cans, ***** clothes in a pile, and I know I'm not better than them

Walk ahead where you're supposed to go and you’ll see you're  walking blind

You’ll find a religion of brilliant noise

Fly free fallen angels,

Now confess your sympathies, as the pale morning guides your lifetime sound

I walk where dead birds lay across the ground

And the pale morning confesses my sympathies

Wandering around without a sound

We were lovers at last

You verb; gave me your house

And put food in our mouths

When tomorrow is at last

You verb; wore clothes a different attire to wear

Sunk teeth in the colors and dyed your hair

You ran so brilliant and fast

You verb; left us a dress that you made

Inscribed I love you always

It was a sunset forgotten

Brother sky put blush on your face and went down once again

Goodnight lover, courses of goodbyes to you friend

I hope you’re dead

I’m digging in your grave Lord

I think you’re undead

I’ve already been digging

To say I dug up the undead

I found and opened a coffin

And all there was was a sticky note that said

“Ye of no faith”

“I’ve never believed in death”

GOTHIC POEM (come on, everyone needs at least one)

My happiness like autumn turns brown

Dries out rivers of sympathy

My hope is like winter and turns rivers ice

The sunshine in spring, up before the break of dawn hints at my poker face

Summer weather droughts every thought

Strangles the idea to strive with heatstroke

In the sunshine it’s understood

when that little voice says

It's a ride  toward  madness

Caress your dreams with nightmares in your bed

You'll see what others have bled for

their secrecy shall lie with the nightmares you keep

Torn tissues

The widow fights with midnight

Goodnight my love

She's crying on midnight’s shoulder

Am Eternal everlasting goodbye

Dreams of compassion, she wakes only to meet the middle of night

And the night witnesses her  

A Mistress  in the hour of dark

Goodbye my  lover, forever in lust with oblivion

You're truly dying my beloved

157 to 160
The torn pages that once compensated the other pages manifestation cries out understanding
It remains an unsolved case