Will you be the ears?
The ears to my words.

Will you be the eyes?
The eyes to my falls.

Will you be the shoulder?
To which I depend on.

Will you be the listener?
And hear my calls.

Come morning
their innocent eyes would ask
the most difficult of questions.

My heart would stall.
My tongue would stiffen.

And my eyes would answer back
with tears.

I await such time,
my toes would dig.
And spear deep into the earth;
take root and keep me planted.

I await such time,
when my trunk -
my core would regain its strength.
So that I wouldn’t sway
too easily in the wind.

I await such time,
my bark would thicken -
like carapace upon the flesh.
So I may be protected
from scathing lashes
of ravenous tongues.

I await such time,
my branches would reach up
with unwavering conviction.
Knowing the clouds in the sky
would be the cushion and salve
to my gnarled digits.

And I await such time,
my leaves would finally sprout
and green.
Then they could rustle
and whisper the tales and hopes
of my past, present and future.

These hands...
Cast of clay.

Had basked in the sun.
Deepened lines marked their faces
and enlarged cracks marred their backs.

Rough and matured.
They spoke the language of old
and hid the ancient ruins of the past.

Held together.
Side by side,
they clenched the fantastical ideals of today.

However,
uncertain and pulled apart...
The future just falls away - a ghost.
A mirage that eludes grasp and capture.

.
O beautiful sunshine, may you beam
On a dishevelled soul as it may seem
Reach for the deepened crevices
Let light illuminate the darkness

O beautiful sunshine, may you bathe
Upon a weepy morn that wished you’d save
Let no mossful stone be left unturned
Let there be hope to those left spurned

.

.
And I’ll show you
fantastical things.

Come into my head.

Know my wants
and desires.
Witness the height
and raging fires.

.

There is a song that I sing tonight.
Every night...

A song made out
of the sighs in my breaths.

Words heavy and laden
from the weight of my thoughts.

A tune forlorn - from the wrenching
of the heart.

A song that I’ve taken to.
A song entitled “Melancholy”.

.

Finally trying doors.
      Looking for spaces that would have me.
        Looking for spaces that’d fit.

Most knobs...
                       Cold.

   They haven’t been touched in a while.
I’ve never bothered to try them.

     They’d probably would open up to empty spaces.

How fitting...
     An empty space for an empty soul.

I have depression.

I suspect I’ve had it for a long time.
It’s only recently I accepted it.

Having this,
is like have an insufferable house guest that just wouldn’t leave.
He was never invited.
I don’t even know why he’s even here.

He’s very persuasive.
He tells me things and shows me what I perceive to be my true value.
I know he likes it here and I’ve had him for so long that I have found strange comfort having him around.

At times, he may slip away without
me even knowing.
But at times, he’d show up.
He’d make a grand entrance.
He’d fuss.

But I’d still wouldn’t realise.

These days,
people know I’m not alone.
People know of him.
People read and watch videos of him.
I applaud them for trying to understand him.
And our relationship.

But it saddens me and it fuels him when the aids don’t do him any justice.
They just allow people to think they know better.
They think they’ve been educated and can start to administer help.
They assume that you’re not heeding their advice.
They think you don’t even try.

But again I applaud them...
For trying so very hard.

This is me and I have a house guest that I’m sincerely trying to manage.



I have depression.

I haven’t been honest.

I haven’t been for many years.

Like a skill out of practice,
I don’t know how to.

Especially to myself.

.

Clutching an anvil
close to my chest
as I struggle
to tread the water.

I’m sinking...

Run the bow across the strings,
and play a tune.

Play my soundtrack.

Play it soft yet sharp
and wrenching.

Play it in the background.
Let the notes run in conflict,
depict agitation and foster
an increasing sense of foreboding.



Because I lay still this night
in perfect disharmony.

I made a painting.
One of the future.

My brush was sure
my strokes, deliberate.

I had chosen colours loud
I had chosen them fearlessly.

Think I’ve completed my painting.
And I hate it.

I wasn’t so afraid
of shadows that stalk.

Wish I wasn’t so afraid
of demons that talk.

Such anxiety that has me bound.
So tight I can’t breathe.

Dispel this fear that I’m nurturing.
These thoughts that have my lungs
in its taloned clutch.

Let not its grip tighten more.
Let not the flame be extinguished.
Let not the last dregs of my strength flee.

Grant me the courage to once again
triumph over the siege that has me...

All bent misshapen and twisted in knots.

Fix the drama -
this play in my head.

A convoluted tale
that sees no end.
A wrenching story
entwined round an overused plot.

A lone actor.
Assuming different roles.
The heart, the mind
and sensibility.

Words of comfort
and swift resolve,
evaporate quickly.
Scathing verses
take root and fester.

Wayward thoughts
and rising beats...
Caught in an abrasive loop.

Fix this drama -
I keep playing in my head.

I watch with no eyes
and listen with no ears.
I am just the shadow
cast still within that of yours.

I whisper no words
and scream without a voice.
I am the quiet between each phrase,
the pause before and after every thought.

I reach with no arms
and stand on no legs.
I am the breeze you feel
on windless nights.

I feel with no heart
but love with no boundaries.
To most I am faceless,
nameless and bear no threat.

I am a sihouette in the distance
no one notices.
A ghost you know exists
but don’t believe.

.
Quench the thirst
that’s been long endured.

A dryness that spanned
too many moons.

Forget not the song
of the morning bird.

Now rests from its flight,
and it sings and croons.

.

As I laid my head,
anticipating the arrival
of a long day’s sleep...

I heard the beating of my heart -
faint but clear - marking the quiet
that loomed before rest.

I traced each beat...
Counted them, knowing that
soon would come
and I’d be in slumber deep.

I remembered another
whose beats matched those of mine -
I finally let go, and got lost
in my cosy nighttime nest.

Capture the night
in one deep breath.

Allow the eyes to map
what swells in the heart.

Capture life...
Be wary not of thorns that *****.

Allow the love to bridge the gap,
even when apart.

If life was music,
then we’d be the words.
Capturing every nuance,
in every minute of everyday.

We’d be the melody.
A piece that tunes unique.
Encompassing the lightness of flightful joy,
the strength of surety
and weight of doom and darkness.

We’d be the story.
Written by the will of the universe.
Intricately ornate...
True...
To each our eyes and hearts.
Arranged most haphazard
yet so beautiful.

We’d be a symphony.
And we will be the music...

Only to our ears.

.

Been away awhile...

Contemplating stars.
Counting moons and suns.
Painting skies.
Deciphering clouds.
Writing in sands.










And missing you.