'mama, why are the angels crying?'

with the sweet drops
of liquid hope
down, down
coating my face
dripping hair
feeling the water
wash away my inner demons
for the moment.
feeling the earth
dark and mystic
cryptic and damp
magick is free
and the earth is playful.
so I'll sit in the rain
letting it wash away my troubles
until the sun shines through
my little wet world of magick
the warmth doesn't always bring good
and the light doesn't
shine through my eternal darkness
let the angels cry
because their tears
only bring me peace.

I am lifted
above my monsters
away from the voices
and temptations
up above all things
dark
lonely
triggering.
with letters on a keyboard
trying to put my state
into carefully organized
words
though this isn't
really
what I truly wanted
while now I am in
a cloud of glowing white
I wanted to go
down
and sink into the earth
into its crust
to shake hands
with the
devil.
I wave at my monsters from
above
and while I know
my gut misses them
and
so does my heart
my brain is clawing
at my mind
telling me that
I shouldn't miss them
because then
you'll be normal
and stop stressing them all out
like they told us
'just be happy'
funny how the only
thing
that could make me
happy-ish
is a puff
of a sweet herb
or a snort
of cloud powder
funny.
for now
ill stay in my cloud
a little bubble
of feeling almost whole
for a while
before the pull
back to
reality
is too touch for
the big M to battle
but it will be fine
because
It's there
waiting for me
to step back into its dark embrace
and succumb
to my own demons.

caught in this
too real of a reality
where I'm forced
to look
in the eye
of my monsters
shake their hand
and say
'nice to see you again'.
when
salvation is so close
just a little smoke
a little *****
a little sniff
anything to
get
me
out
of
this
place
because I'm suffocated
by my nightmares
and beaten
by my own harsh consciousness
I need a release
something my
too busy brain
can't fight against
for once
so I'm reaching out
for a taste of a monster
bigger than my own
to drag me away
from
my
own
reality.

just imagination, they had said.
"psychotic depression,"
was the name they gave you
but it's just
a label
only something to be called by
because simple
human words
can't describe
the relationship we really share
your darkness
fits me perfectly
pulling me down
into the beautiful
black abyss
deeper i sink
and you remind me
that it'll be better
further down
when I'm fully consumed by
your dark perfume
and I give into the temptation
to be with you,
forever.