time's going by slower and
slower and it's getting hard
to look at myself in the
mirror but i did this to myself
and i know i did and i can feel
the regret creeping up behind
me and i can feel it crawling
on my skin and into my pores
and sinking it's teeth into my
bones
the pain is taking over and it's
getting hard to breathe and i
can't tell reality from nightmare
and maybe that's what i've been
after all along
why didn't you stop me why
would you ever let this happen
to me you let me tear the flesh
from my bones just for the show

I remember when I was lost in depression and self-loathing,
how alone I felt.

Even when I was surrounded by people, who I loved and loved me, I felt disconnected and numb.

This poem is a small message to all of you who felt and feel this way that you are not alone.

No suggestions or advice.  Often the friends and strangers that helped me the most when I was really lost in myself were the ones who drew near and were just with me.

A silent loving presence means a lot when you feel numb to life.  A simple tender touch might not break through the walls of depression in the moment, but I remember those warm touches in hind sight.  

Loving presence were subtle lamp posts that guided me out of the darkness of depression, resentments, self-pity, and hate.

All I have are these words as totems of a loving presence given to me by others that reminded me that I am not alone.  A gentle touch, a silent smile, or just hearing the breath of a loved one sitting quietly next to you.

We could not understand because we were too far and could not remember because we were traveling in the night of first ages. And those ages are gone, leaving hardly a sign and no memories. We are accustomed to look upon the shackled form of a conquered monster, but there, there you could look at a thing monstrous...and free.  The Heart of Darkness

Slowly ever so slowly
Gliding above the burning things below
Some still moved but we did not attend

We were tired of carrion food
There was too much
Still we could hear the distant passage
Of a great beast
Earth shaking roars and shrapnel filled flames
Shaking the backs of our eyes
We waited for that moment of stillness
When the earth breathed between eruptions
Just like that night in Stalingrad
Or Gettysburg when the cannon stopped that summer afternoon
All that could be heard were
The groans of the wounded
Then the clatter of the gunships returned
The spell was broken
Just as it began to move toward the lines of tracers and the 20mm rapid-fire,
Flinging the broken skeleton of the city before it
The beast met our eyes for a moment
Shared a sly grin
Then we knew it for our own
Our private monster

She doesn't know how to make you happy.
She doesn't have the ability to wrap her arms around you and whisper in your young ears that old women are strangers.
She doesn't know how to kiss your tears away because the ocean terrifies her and you taste like saltwater when you bask in the sun.
She doesn't want to watch you suffocate but it's hard to let you breathe when she needs oxygen, too.
You are sunlight and glory and an inescapable breeze in winter but to her you are fragile and have broken too many times and she's running out of super glue.

Maybe this doesn't make any sense, but neither does her head
neither do you and neither does she
cause you aren't a single thing she knows what to do with
yet she can't find it in her to let you go.

First poem to Tina as my lover no more.

I.

Three years and eight months.
My closest. My one.
She'd stayed through madness
Enough.
I am a man of demons.
As I slayed the last one
I turned to see her having fallen
For the blow
As well.
Women and children
Die first.

II.

We cry. We kiss and cry.
Make love crying.
Laugh crying.
Leaving streaks on her back
Of salty regret
As I kiss her every single
Detail farewell.
How can gratitude for love
Hurt like being hated
By a loved
One?

III.

I take full responsibility.
Never raised a hand, but spoke
Hard and disgusting
Bottled anger.
Her leaving makes it
Poetry; lends meaning.
I'll drink again, but the drunk
Demon
Is dead.

IVa.

Today I'll come home
And forget to cook
For just one.
That Volvo will never
Come speeding down the
Gravel road again containing
Other than an ex
Coming to collect
More things that are no
Longer
Ours.

IVb.

No longer mine. I say like all
Others in grief: *This pain
Is new to me.
I embrace it on the floor
Holding her sweater
That I burned a little
Warming it on the stove for
Her in winter.
Then it's into the box
With it.
I'll leave a tear on her every
Garment, thanking for
The love and passion
They held within.

V.

I look up at skies as blue
As they come.
I will live here alone.
Thanking for all the beauty,
And all we learned from
What wasn't.
All is how it should be.
This was our road to
Travel together.

Be well. Be loved. Be safe.
You owe me nothing.
Be happy for this;
There's growth in it.
You are no longer my
Girlfriend, but you'll
Always be my
Girl.

"Together" was our word.
To Get Her was
My most gracious gift
Since Life.
Now let me cry
Like a child lost.
Then I'll move on,
Being neither.