When the warm sun, that brings
Seed-time and harvest, has returned again,
’Tis sweet to visit the still wood, where springs
      The first flower of the plain.

      I love the season well,
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
      The coming-on of storms.

      From the earth’s loosened mould
The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives;
Though stricken to the heart with winter’s cold,
      The drooping tree revives.

      The softly-warbled song
Comes from the pleasant woods, and colored wings
Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along
      The forest openings.

      When the bright sunset fills
The silver woods with light, the green ***** throws
Its shadows in the hollows of the hills,
      And wide the upland glows.

      And when the eve is born,
In the blue lake the sky, o’er-reaching far,
Is hollowed out, and the moon dips her horn,
      And twinkles many a star.

      Inverted in the tide,
Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw,
And the fair trees look over, side by side,
      And see themselves below.

      Sweet April!—many a thought
Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed;
Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought,
      Life’s golden fruit is shed.

I am a raincoat on your way home, sheltering you from the storm. When its thundering and lightening my only wish was the electricity spreading through every single one of my veins to keep you warm. I could write and write but it's never electric enough to keep you sane. And every single sympathetic step towards the end, towards bathtub I wish I was the one who took the pain. I wish I was a toaster accompanying your stares towards the water and I'd slaughter all the distressing thoughts that make your mind wonder.
But the music in my head made it stop. Everything stopped and it was calmed at suicide. But how do you run and hide?
And how do you explain your neck slipping like butter?
The rope sending you into a suffocating slumber.
Do you say it was an accident?
Do you say it was the thunder? That sent you into a frenzy in which you'd never recover.
Now tape yourself together little wind up toy, just for a little while.
Because even rain or shine if someone asks you how you're doing, you always lie and smile.

Sometimes we lose ourselves to the game so easily others get caught up within stories be careful how the page is written for all to soon you will part of the ink itself my friends.

I blew the smoke like a dragon watching the street below and thought to myself is this all?
I chased the dream till it became a nightmare now I simply chased sleep to pass into another day.

It's always raining somewhere .

It was stupid.
Waves crashed and the wind was cold.
I shivered and i wanted to change my mind
could i back out now
I grabbed the hand next to me and we ran and we jumped
it was fast but slow
the air was cold for a second until the water hit.
there was no feeling
I was under the water
thinking was gone and my lungs did the talking screaming to my mind
“get up get out you
air, now, now”
i open my eyes and i can see black and blue and the water is over my head
the bubbles and curls and waves of the water break away as my head is pushed up.
i gasp at the air and fill my lungs with the hot gas of life.
my limbs and body have become weights
but i dont sink
I push my body through the water and it takes all the strength i have
when i reach the ladder I grasp with a hand i cannot feel i stand with my feet and the journey up that ladder takes two lifetimes
then i'm up
it is the coldest i have ever felt
I run and i breathe
you never know what being alive feels like until you feel like you are almost done being alive
it was very very stupid
suddenly everything was hot
air was hot
ground was hot
my skin
my eyes
my dripping wet hair
hot hot hot
hours passed of feeling hot and cold and  breathing
it's strange to think that something so stupid made me feel so strong

I try to wear you once in a while,
     making sure if you fit the same
     as the last time i checked

But then again, whenever i notice
     the apparent worn off, tired seams
     from the fabric that was once our love,
     I go back again and sew them together,

Carefully threading the gaps back
     where they once were sewn tightly shut,
     left with no space for inadequacy,
     hardly any place for scarcity of love.

My misguided, solitary efforts then proved
     a love with tenuous and delicate clothing
     that has misplaced its capacity
     to wear out storms and excessive usage.

Back there is where i find
     that not everything burnt out
     could rekindle its flame.