When will we be together?
This swirling vortex of consequence and chance;
Surely cannot keep us apart forever?
It seems the fear of being alone is mounting;
But hope is the only thing that is more powerful than fear;
So I will hope and not fear;
That the time is near;
When you will be here.

I call out for sanity;
But where is she?
Are you hiding in the ideas of others?
Are you standing behind the prophets?
You are as slippery as water;
I cannot get a hold of you;
I see you but cannot perceive you;
Is it because my friend folly so loves?
And you are a wicked *****?
Is it because I hate the truth -
But rejoice in the false?
Or perhaps I am too blind to see;
That there is beauty in unperceived reality;
Regardless of my insanity?

When does it end?
It is all self-inflicted;
The pain I feel, the troubles I see;
I don’t want to wake up;
Afraid of what I might do;
Afraid of what I might think;
Escape is not an option;
Just alternative routes to the inevitable darkness;

I am alone in this world;
Fleeting glimpses of beauty, hope and life;
Seen through the glasses of hatred and disbelief;
It’s all self-inflicted;
This guilt and grief;
If I had the power to rid myself of it, would I?
My melancholy is my confidant, my best friend;
Comforts me when I awake, when I rest my head;
When I see happy people oblivious to the inevitable passing;
When I listen to a beautiful quartet;
When I read TS. Eliot;
There is no escape;
There is no light at the end of the tunnel;
There is no solitary truth;
There is no way, and there is no life;
Let death encompass me, and fill me with nothingness;
For surely, it is the least I deserve.
And masochistically have always wanted.

Many would call me depressed;
I cannot disagree with them, nor do I want to;
I just want them to let me go;
Realize that I have let myself slip from my control;
They say gods do not make mistakes;
I cannot disagree with them, nor do I want to;
I want to be alone loving is too painful;
Yet I crave the love of god;
How jagged are my thoughts?
They say love is beautiful;
I cannot disagree with them, nor do I want to;
For I have never experienced the butterflies;
I have never experienced the smiling eyes;
My melancholy is my wife;
And my only love, in this life.

There is a sound;
Under which all grief and pain is drowned
There is a feeling;
That encompasses all meaningful healing
There is a taste;
That sweetens all bitter waste
There is a sight;
That reveals hope in the darkest night
There is a smell;
That repudiates the idea of Hell
There is a touch;
That removes the need for any crutch
There is a lie;
That says strong men do not cry
There is a truth;
That is snatched away from the innocent youth
There is a word;
That is often misheard
This overlooked abstraction
Can be said in one simple phrase:
Unto all sentience, have Compassion

Sometimes life can be quiet,
With moments of reprieve.
Thoughts intercept silence;
And companionship I begin to bereave.

Sometimes life can be loud,
With strenuous bouts of peace.
The abyss blocks the way -
And exsanguinates the hopeful day.

Often life is lifeless,
And the possibility of companionship becomes priceless.

If just for a moment in time,
She can become mine -
The silence can be stilled.

And after that fleeting moment,
Solitude can resume,
And cease being my opponent.

Melancholy will answer my call,
As she always has,
And time will go on -
Outside of my mind forged Alcatraz.

I once tried to rationalize
The actions of bad men
By looking at the motives
Behind the darkened den
Greed, Intolerance and Hate
The keys to an earthly gate
The iceberg that floats
Is similar to the man that claims he does not gloat
For beneath the surface lies
The true nature of man
A Beast in an aesthetic disguise