This is a disease.
People say it isn't deadly.

But
It is.

It grips hold of its host.
Making them feel miserable.

It rips open the old wounds;
buried deep inside;
to bleed and soak through the fabric of time
to stain the newly washed cloth
I just washed of all its dirt
Once Again.

It beat down the wall
That I put up
To keep it out.

For Good.

It clawed and growled and howled.
At the glowing moonlight of what was my
New Self.
Begging to have a slice of that new pie.

It got what it wanted.

It took hold of me;
Again.
It made me bleed;
Again.
It made the seas of mid-night aches
and
mid-day death wishes arise
Again.

When Will it Go Away.

the first demon
man has ever seen
is the shadow of his own
on the night without the moon

greater than his soul
conquering his mind
aided by a weapon -
*fear of his own

Soft thoughts
Melting down my face
I'm a disgrace
Head filled with
Haze as fine as lace
Where is this place?
On long nights I trace
Your two lonely eyes
And quivering lips, me
Hello, me, I am you
You trace my quivering eyes
And lonely lips
On long dark evenings
Where blankets trap you
To the asylum of your midnight room
Black so thoughts light up,
My soft thoughts running

   down

I fell from the sky
And landed on the cusp
Of a soft baby feather

Who are we?
Walking around proudly
With our heads to god,
So easily bearing
Satan's hands on our ankles
To drag us down, we
Can fly until the planes crumble
Until the balloons pop
Can climb until the mountains
Cease, but we
Never realized that for all we go up
Must come down,  and
Leave us yearning for the skies again.
So lay flat on the ground
With your eyes to the stars
Give Satan your limbs
And God,  your head and heart