Depression
                         Is like
A mountain

That you alone must peak
Just
        
            To climb back down again.

I hear your voice speak.

                                               It says
I don't have to do this

But I do.
But I do.

I'm slipping
                       On the rocks.
Wishing
For some rest,
But I keep pushing
To the top

Just

          To climb back down again.
I don't have to do this,

But I do.
But I do.

I extend
                 My hands
To the sky.
Its so blue and out of reach.

I get closer
                      Every time,
But I have to say goodbye.

I have to climb back down the mountain.

I'll be back up again soon, I know....

I know I don't have to climb back down the mountain,

But I do

I do

I do.

The sublime times
We would climb
Hills
Just to sled down
On trashcan lids.

We were kids
And we were poor,
But we never wanted anything
More;
Just more time to continue the fun.

I seep those memories in my sleep.
I miss when dreams
Were within arms reach.
All we yearned for was the presence of each other.
I was your friend.
You were my brother.

War is never Peace,
This occurs to me
over frosted flakes
in my fleece.

My mochaccino-
Chocolate Mandarin
building a Wall
between Awake
and Sleep.

she reads out loud
the works of Shel Silverstein
between dusk and dawn
and knew a thing or two
about a tiger
and a mischievous little boy
and she could make him blush
from the inside out
yet they were never
in the same place
at the same time
planets apart
ghosts haunting different hearts
in different houses
soft spoken whispers
of silk poetry
lining the hours of longing
drifting in and out
with the moonlight
lips that only kissed
in fiction and rhyme
little white lies of lily's
scattered between the stars
sweet cherry dreams
of imagined sin
and somewhere in places
that don't exist
in times that never where
and never would be
there was a love
as only love can be
between the words
of fairies dreaming
and heavens falling
as she reads out loud
the works of Shel Silverstein

Welcome to the wave, the fourth to come through.
The horror and the beauty, equally true.
In its death throes, a self portrait painted.
Kaleidoscope of worn hearts jaded,
Beating anew.
You'll have to choose.
Will you say you're grown or will you say you grew?

Welcome to the days they sang to you.
Where the bars in the cage suddenly move.
The clouds in your head, all but faded.
The flowers in the garden, no longer waiting
To bloom.

Truth be told, don't know where it's headed.
Think we're going up. There I said it.
Follow the current, set by the moon.
Giant for all, from a little by you.

Can't get it out
Digging at the heart of the thing
Always seem to be forgetting
What it's about

It's like climbing a mountain
Looking for origin of spring
Everyone says in this forest
There hides a tree

Dropping the ball
Watching this scene of gravity
All the loose ends traveling
On the back of a dream

down there, to die
Inconsequential life
Taken out of the light
So nobody can see

the result of no praxis
This moment has no axis-
Just relax.

This is how it's meant to be.

The world stopped turning but things still spin.
I think we need a rewind to do it again.
The tape's getting old, the wax is crumblin,
but it's bending round the folds and the sounds keep mumblin.
I know there's a toll coming up ahead. I didn't bring any change but I brought some bread to keep the
birds nearby flying over my head.
They let me know if they've been fed.
They don't say nothing, but I understand.
They let me know if there's something dead.
They don't say nothing, but I understand.

They told me I should plan a trip,
but they never mentioned I was already on it.
They told me it would all add up,
but I'm always short so I resort to pawnin.

God help me; birds, here's your bread.
Tell me if I'm already dead.
I'm heading for the mountains, empty-handed.
They don't say nothing, but I understand.

What does it mean to be quiet?
What does it mean to let go?
What does it mean to be dying
Alone?

What do you need to keep trying?
What do you need to grow?
What do you feel when I tell you you've had it
All along?

Does it bite you to the bone?

Does it grab you and never let go?

Or do you let it pass by like
So many things
Before?

Opened your eyes and shut the door.

Doesn't that shake you to your core?

What does it mean when nothing means anything,
What do you do with your time now?
You've taken in all the world's troubles,
And haven't let a single thing out.