he holds my hand
and spends the night
chasing after dying stars
he smiles
falling for the moon

shouldn't be afraid to die,
i am

I am not beautiful
When I am sad
Because my depression
Is not the pretty
Made for tv kind

It’s the kind
That keeps me in bed
All day and night
Not able to get up
But also unable to sleep

The kind that means
I didn’t take a shower
Or bath all week
Because I couldn’t
Even put in that small amount of effort

It’s not the kind
That people want to see
To take artsy photos of
That could just be fixed
If only I could be happier

It’s the kind that means
I’ll be up all night again
And I’ll have bags under my eyes
And I won’t put on makeup
Because I just can’t do anything

And I can’t make myself study
Or do any work at all
Because my mind
Just can’t stop thinking
About everything and nothing

The kind that brings up
All of the memories
That I try to forget
And that try to **** me
Or maybe that’s just me

Do not fear tomorrow
for tomorrow will never come
do not fear the past
for the past is already done

do not cry for approval
for approval gives no bread
do not weep for the dying
instead laugh with the dead

follow the path of gravestones
decorated with gold
follow the dark and the light
to see which one takes hold

listen to the bird call
follow the raven's trail
listen to the wolf howl
watch him shake his tail

run as fast as we can

back to where it began

I'm a silently panicked individual,
on the outside  I'm calmer than
    the ocean on a windless tide.

But underneath I'm like a riptide of
trepidation,
             I wonder different scenarios.

What if's,
                when will I,
              why the hell are they
                                    not 6 feet away.

In my view, a cotton cloth isn't going
to stop anything, if a **** can get through,
                boxers, and Demin trousers.


How's a thin cloth going to stop it,
              P.s the rest of your face neck
hair is open for business.


Its absorbed, every breath, touch
cough, that travels much, much
further than you think.

With your vinyl gloves that spread more
than you realise..
             But what ever makes
                          you comfortable.. that's ok!!!

                             But don't touch anything
I want to pick up with your filthy hands.
Id rather trust unwashed digits to those
blue, white, finger puppets of falsehood.

I read the news, so many who help us,
          those in need thank goodness I'm
not one, not yet..
But they help the poorly,
                            the dying..
  I hate that word
                            DYING..
loneliness,
             of family unable morn you,
             to smile and wish you good journey.

You, we, them just die without a smile.
               a We Love You.
No they just gasp looking for comfort,
      but all they see is others gasping for
           just another day...

                      Flatline...…………………………………….