the wind that howls in the deepest night is a comforting sound the dog that moans in the earliest light is a soulmate found I abhor the thought of wistful bliss of nervous laughter unprovoked I slip into my warm abyss this sea of pain on which I choke I wade in pools of sought despair while punks seek out their mothers I dance on floors of rotted wood and sing to ghosts of lovers I find it my salvation to document this pain to analyze the demons and revel in the rain perhaps one day I'll leave this place and walk into the Sun to share the light of happiness content my deed is done
whole new crop of oldies I discovered. (revised) I will mix old and new.