Depression is so terrible. You are so sad you feel like the melancholy will stretch forever. But I have to **** it up and pathetically write this down at 2 in the morning.

It's as if I,
I
Am born with a void
The silence is an invitation
A banquet
Filled with unlit chandeliers
That only I can dance with

Nothing is around except
The grand hall of 'I'
Laid bare like a naked body
Unarmed and yet lethal

Melancholy
Is my infection and sensibility
I rubbled in a cave
When the rest stood on empires

It is a cat and mouse chase
Fooling one that
No one gets eaten
But I,
I will be

It would only take a blink
Before every sadness seeps
In my glass skin
And I am done as a crystal jar

It would only take a fickle sun
Before every wicked order
Rhymeless or not
Claims me with a Judas kiss.

How disbelieving and cruel
That we are embroiled in wars
Yet no one takes charge
No one takes hold of the pain
Not until they've seen blood
Peppering the ground like a vineyard
And canyons like fireworks
In the air
Not until the ghost of Hiroshima
Haunts their backyards
Not until their souls jump out
of their doors
Not until the streets carpet enemy boots
Not until guns lay in tables with the evening coffee
Not until the television casts a shadow of panic
Not until then, even.
Not until gunpowders fuse in with the uninvolved morning dew
Not until everyone talks about it
Not until expensive towers devalue into rubbles
Not until a dreaded call about the dead stabs a mother's ears
Not until a child becomes an urchin on the streets with no memory of his father
Not until bones break, souls crush under the gripping theatrics of war.
Not until the eyes see what the mind does not believe.
Not until nightmares take shape in stories
And maybe not even then.

Since when have words abandoned me?
Since when have they mixed up with atrophy not symphony?
I see myself fixed on a page that bears no more meaning to me

These are hieroglyphics not my life in symbols
These are objects not reanimations
These are dots not wholes
I am an eyeless Beethoven
Instead I long for words in my memory

Stacks of blank paper flying around the block
They are dead , long gone, hell bent
No eulogies my old friends
I am simply apologetic
For you ascended me to galaxies
But in a vacuum I can't seem to think of you

I am thankless, the idiot
My mind is a boiling cauldron
With a Salem spell, I must be bewitched
I do not recognize the person
reading the stories like they are rocks
I feel no longer, I dream no longer

The voices in the pages were once
 bursts of 'I'
Wandering muse, exalted beings
Not the cacophonies of devils
in my head
Not the powerlessness of a victim.

You who crossed over
the next decade like a stranger
on slowly familiar lands

No you are not mine to begin with
I merely cut open
Like a surgeon
Only I wasn't saved.

They'll say you tried to ****
me then
What a story
What a cry

The swan song
Plays itself repeatedly
like a haunted rhyme
I am not a listener
I am the orchestrator.

Although I fail to
build from scratch
without reducing
myself to you
or anything at all

Fragility is my downfall
And you know very well
how to shatter.

The angels must have smiled
When your little fingers fluttered
Open like delighted sunflower petals
Upon your mother's tears and
Your father's joy in the curve of
His mouth. They must have.
For I surely would have.

You are the umbrella to rain
You are the soft wind in a summer day
You are the relief to my pain
You are the blanket to the cold
You are the hand to hold when
everything slips
You are the book that stays open
for those who would want to dream more.

Fate is beyond us but friendship
is truly magical right?
I'd let the threads of time weave
some more, some more.
Until the day it fulfills a beautiful story
of friendship fated, friendship kept.

The world shall fall as they fall
In their ruin, everything will follow
And so it ends

Bring in the seraphim
Tear the pure clouds, reveal the gods above
If doubt is a stronger virtue
Then I am its paragon

Women fall at lofty feet in a harem
Gorging on peasants' spines 'till faces turn mauve
Fear is the new moral breakthrough
A scale higher than the utmost echelon

The world shall destroy as they destroy
In their ruin, everything will follow
And so it ends.

The snake bite no longer stings
Calloused as a tyrant's compassion
The purest hands do grow relentless weeds
As they laze on the filthiest plots

Kings and hearts mount to slings
Foreboding most malleable deception
Blood spills bright on their letterheads
As truth gets set by red-handed bureaucrats

The world shall burn as they burn
In their ruin, everything will follow
And so it ends.

Marksmen are wealthier than diplomats
Golden bullets to the golden rule
The trend is to laugh at our silence
The principle is to break lives not dictates

There lies no purgatory for these aristocrats
On to the vile ember cesspool
Until then, they fawn in worldly omnipotence
And not one revolts, not even conscience

The world shall end as they end
In their sceptre,everything follows
And so it goes on.