I saw a place, between land and space
Between eyes wide shut and open.

I held your gaze, razed and replaced
With eyes black with woe in.

I slung a fist, I did a jig
I lived life by the moment;

I found regret and I repent,
I sliced my mind wide open.

I saw your face, between land and space
My jaw dropped in wonderment.

I held your gaze, raised and replaced
With eyes black with a glow in.

'Tis moonlight, summer moonlight,
All soft and still and fair;
The solemn hour of midnight
Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere,

But most where trees are sending
Their breezy boughs on high,
Or stooping low are lending
A shelter from the sky.

And there in those wild bowers
A lovely form is laid;
Green grass and dew-steeped flowers
Wave gently round her head.

Depression is not a grey mist hanging over everything, it is the absence of the grey mist that 'normal' people are accustomed to. They experience life in a muted way. We, as depressives, get the chance to experience the truth, for that moment, and it is so unbearably painful because it is real.
Seeing this reality is being exposed to the truth. We think. Does the truth lie?

You're rotten.
Clothes sodden.
Preaching a soul-bleaching doctrine.
Forgotten, I bleed through.
My heart like a sponge then you squeeze through.
I beseech you,
Do not let the blood run
I need you.
Want to beat you,
Want to hack you to death -
With a serrated blade
Want to saw through your face
With the toxicity of hate.

Want to kiss you
Then dismiss you
Want to ******* with a fist-full of fake love
Then take off and spit on the **** that is you
You're rotten
You're rotten.

Sweet is the night, devoid of the rush and bustle,
Devoid of daylight's struggle and brutal hustle,
And my fear as through dark alleys I go run, running

Sweet is the night, devoid of the crush and muscle
Of a thousand bodies, and their compressed sadness weighing

Sweet is the night, silent is God's nocturnal music
Like a river, the darkness is, and soothing
Black like the cosmos ever moving
Sleek like the slippery silver surface
Of the dream webs of my mind

All content, we do not scream
Or through need of the bold, tread hard
At night we tiptoe a poet's ballet
And sing hushed rhythms like a heart's song pumping

For months and months
I waited
Praying for a sign
But without me
You laughed and smiled
And I realized
You were fine