It is autumn; not without
But within me is the cold.
Youth and spring are all about;
It is I that have grown old.

Birds are darting through the air,
Singing, building without rest;
Life is stirring everywhere,
Save within my lonely breast.

There is silence: the dead leaves
Fall and rustle and are still;
Beats no flail upon the sheaves,
Comes no murmur from the mill.

Fancy a bullet?
I can get you that

A nice blade to slit your wrists?
I can get you that

You want some company while you bleed to death?
I can get you that.

I can get you that and much more
Because i love you.

it is a post-human resistance to still-born meat,
the floccinaucinihilipilification of the catholic retreat;
another God disguised to look like me.

No drink or drug
could ever be enough
To make me forget
How much I loved.

My depression is a transgression
against me, and mine.
I never asked to be contaminated
with this strife.

My depression is a possession
of evil, of illness.
I never thought I would be
rife with highs and lows.

My depression is a progression
of good and bad thoughts.
I never wanted to be
violated with cries and lies.

My depression is a weapon
against all who suffer its woes.
I hope the afterlife takes this repression
and nullifies it's effects.

My depression is mine but
suffered by many. We are pulverised,
neutralised and modified by our own
minds and medicated to keep sated.

My depression is Legion
a wickedness to the self.
A circle unending, unbending,
curving toward suppression of oneself.

Apply plastic to my face; I can't embrace
the way I look, the way I waste.
My God is dead, because I erased him.
I am trapped in a daydream nation.

Rip the cords out of celebri-babes
I wanna be the end of a film
I wanna fade...

...Fade in,
My God is your God and I declare you're full of sin
Hollywoodland is my mecca and it's all that I am
Give me a star on the walk instead of the sky
I don't wanna live, I just don't ever want to die

Hollywood, Holly would
give up her soul
if Oscars and movies could
make her whole.