Surrounded by endless space,
We have one place;
A home in perfect placement,
A little bastion of hope.

It's a miracle we're here,
And graceful we must feel;
But they don't comprehend,
They just don't understand.

Blinded by white lies,
That "Everthing'll be fine"
But is that really true?
Why don't they see the truth?

I wish to save my home,
My little bastion of hope;
But only wanting more,
They destroy evermore.

I wish to give the Earth it's peace
I wish her soul you would release.
But when I speak you shut me out
Just to make society proud.

How can you destroy your home?
How can you just care for more?
Your selfishness will doom us all
Your doomed if you ignore her call

20:00 - Dinner
Alone but entertained
I like it that way

21:00 - Skype calls
Not having talked for four days
I've missed her yet the occasional silence is nice

22:00 - Fillers
Scrolling through pictures and sharing thoughts
A pleasant and calm feeling

23:00 - Rethinking
The first hypothetical theories about the day
Laughing at the slip-ups to push them away

00:00 - Reflecting
Doubting choices throughout the week
Faking a small smile

01:00 - Endurance
A familiar feeling spreads
Downcast eyes and a facade of peace

02:00 - Creative
New ideas and thoughts fill up the space
Pick and choosing which ones would hurt the most now

03:00 - Idealistic
Reading stories about happiness, pain and change
Wondering what will become of me

04:00 - Closure
Horrible thoughts tearing down the last walls
Curling up and crying again

05:00 - End
Following a familiar routine before sleep comes
Cradling the broken mind

late at night, you would call me
                from beneath taffeta sheets

cellular glow races through mountain rock
            straight to the heart

i never picked up
you never called again

(i miss your honeyed voice like i would a limb)

faint sounding bird calls
drifted on the eve's lazy breeze
of a tone low set
listening harder one heard
a leather-head's distinct pitch

i hope one day
you see a photo of me
and you wonder
if i still love the color yellow
or if i still fall asleep easier on the phone
i hope one day
you see a photo of me
and wonder if i still think about you

Running inside, closing down and shutting off
It might be easy for some
It's torture to me... I torture myself.
No one cares when I disappear
No one notices
My phone doesn't ring.
Maybe I miss Facebook events
Some of which included a family death
And still, my phone didn't ring.
No one knocks on my door
No questions are asked of what's going on
With me,
in me.
When I announce my retraction
They slightly caring folks will await
A Facebook update
They don't call.
The whole world goes on
while I'm trying to not post my depression
for the five friends that care.
Although the care only reaches as far as
waiting for my facebook post
telling them I'm "ok"
      But
            I'm
                  Not