It's a bright new day,
There's dew on the grass,
The sun is shining,
A slight breeze rustles the leaves,
It's not too cold,
And not too warm,
One might say it is a perfect morning.

Yet why don't I feel it,
The joy and peace of nature,
Why do I,
Who has trained his soul,
Who knows his soul,
Who is one with his soul,
Only feel the darkness,
The sorrow and the loneliness,
The depression.

One might say there's something wrong with me,
Indeed, maybe there is, but would I know?
I would not,
Because all I see this day,
Or éveryday for that matter,
Is that you are not with me,
That you do not want to be,
And most painfully so,
Not for you, but for me.

You said,
     "If I leave him now,
      He will lose nothing."
But this could not be further from right.
Shall you leave me now,
I will lose you.
Which is to say,
I lose everything.

Please, come back.
You can make it,
This I know,
For I shall be your strength,
You needn't move one step.
I shall go to you,
Just hold on a couple more nights.
You needn't worry,
I will relieve you of
Ev'ry trouble.

We will be together,
We shan't say goodbye yet,
We will have our time,
And we will be happy.
For you have said you love me,
And I, even more, love you.

Mirror on my side.
Walls paper thin.
Empty shell on a bike.
Soulless soul count to ten.

Read my words
and hear my sorrow.
See as I have seen
into the depths of hell.

Serotonin flows within me once again
as I write this poem.
A soul filled soul
breaths once again.

It's strange how through times of turmoil you discover who belongs in your life.
In that moment, you stop everything you're doing, just to let that one person know,
You love them.
They fight on, and live on, through the inner struggles in their heads,
Struggles some of us who are weaker, would not understand.
She said, "If this is the end, let it be beautiful."
So let it be beautiful,
Because she said so.

The flowers will bloom, when will this child inside me bloom?
The vines have thorns.
Will these thorns keep pricking me?
I can't even really feel them.
Will I heal?
This deflated heart is waiting to be pumped with your love for all the right reasons.
This ain't no treason.
The emptiness in between the walls.
Spaces between my teeth.
Can I just feel again?
Make me feel again.

cheap wine tides me over
as i go against the grain, walk along the side
of the train tracks
and wish i was brave enough
                                          to stride down the middle
wish i was brave enough to admit out loud
that i’d love to just stand there
embrace the black coal smoke with open arms
breathe it in
and never exhale again

and i don’t mean that in a suicidal way
                                                         (i swear)
i just mean the thought crosses my mind
too often not to mean something

there’s probably a word for this feeling
but i’ve got nobody to tell it to

Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,
Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,
I have lived o'er my lives without number,
I have sounded all things with my sight;
And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright.

I have whirled with the earth at the dawning,
When the sky was a vaporous flame;
I have seen the dark universe yawning
Where the black planets roll without aim,
Where they roll in their horror unheeded, without knowledge or lustre or name.

I had drifted o'er seas without ending,
Under sinister grey-clouded skies,
That the many-forked lightning is rending,
That resound with hysterical cries;
With the moans of invisible daemons, that out of the green waters rise.

I have plunged like a deer through the arches
Of the hoary primoridal grove,
Where the oaks feel the presence that marches,
And stalks on where no spirit dares rove,
And I flee from a thing that surrounds me, and leers through dead branches above.

I have stumbled by cave-ridden mountains
That rise barren and bleak from the plain,
I have drunk of the fog-foetid fountains
That ooze down to the marsh and the main;
And in hot cursed tarns I have seen things, I care not to gaze on again.

I have scanned the vast ivy-clad palace,
I have trod its untenanted hall,
Where the moon rising up from the valleys
Shows the tapestried things on the wall;
Strange figures discordantly woven, that I cannot endure to recall.

I have peered from the casements in wonder
At the mouldering meadows around,
At the many-roofed village laid under
The curse of a grave-girdled ground;
And from rows of white urn-carven marble, I listen intently for sound.

I have haunted the tombs of the ages,
I have flown on the pinions of fear,
Where the smoke-belching Erebus rages;
Where the jokulls loom snow-clad and drear:
And in realms where the sun of the desert consumes what it never can cheer.

I was old when the pharaohs first mounted
The jewel-decked throne by the Nile;
I was old in those epochs uncounted
When I, and I only, was vile;
And Man, yet untainted and happy, dwelt in bliss on the far Arctic isle.

Oh, great was the sin of my spirit,
And great is the reach of its doom;
Not the pity of Heaven can cheer it,
Nor can respite be found in the tomb:
Down the infinite aeons come beating the wings of unmerciful gloom.

Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,
Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,
I have lived o'er my lives without number,
I have sounded all things with my sight;
And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright.