When the sadness strikes like
a match to my soul
and living is drudgery
and my pulse slows to 49
because the thought of
life beyond the pink
horizon calms me tremendously.
I think of our laughter together;
our churning, choking laughter,
and I smile through my pain for
a second or two;
then I gaze through the
venetian blinds at the gray
sky and the sycamore trees and
the daffodils in the distance,
and none of them are
laughing, for they know that
laughter always dies.
The heart try's to hold on,
but loses every time.

At day's end, your love is like a
ditch full of weeds:
a rotting pumpkin, a returned letter,
a dead yellow cat in the grass.

At day's end, the *** drowns in the river
while trying to bathe.
The soul is deep in atrophy, and the
goldfish floats to the top of the bowl.

At day's end, your accusations attack like
cicada killers.
Your eyes are soulless, and the
clown is a killer.

At day's end, suicide is a viable option;
the light has been murdered.
Jack the ripper got away, and
the night goes mad with horrid dreams.

At day's end, the sailboat sinks,
the horse breaks its leg in the backstretch,
and neither your dog nor your hope will fetch anymore.

At day's end, there is a shadow behind the orchid.
Your ****** has teeth, and the bull becomes a steer.
At day's end, the planets fall to the sea,
noon is an illusion, and romantic love
is gored in the streets of Chili.
At day's end, my Alice won't leave Wonderland,
the dormouse drowns in his tea, and
the Dodo still can't fly.

At day's end, Don Quixote burns at the stake.
Robin hangs in his lonely closet.
Peter goes out upside down,
and old Ernie shotguns himself through breakfast.

What keeps me holding onto my old self,
preventing me from casting it into past swells?

Something detested, adored, hymned too,
haunted, cancer ridden, inflamed, grieving

and torn- yet beloved, pulled forward
into an ocean of tomorrow and tomorrow’s

swimming to hope or drowning in hopelessness,
never knowing where my forgiveness exists

or where my identity will be marooned,
my crueler self will  beach

and be rescued or
die in the unlit sun.

There's so much that I have to do
They say **** it up and push on through

Every day is just meaningless
All these pills they just tire me

But I’ll break these chains

Ooh, I won't tolerate

All these nights
I can't fall asleep

Give me back my personality

So set me free
Ooh, set me free

No more running
No more running from me

I’ll keep fighting
I’ll keep fighting
I’ll keep fighting until I’m finally free

I look and there's nothing left,
There's nothing left to be saved.
Because I am yours
I wear my mask
And behave.

I look at me and I see
There's nothing left to be saved
Because you own me,
I laugh it off
I'm your slave,

Yours, in a lost state
I wear my mask and behave
Because you own me
I wear my mask

Can I say my depression out aloud?
I am afraid that I will be short of words;
For, my own emotions cannot be found,
And my heart bleeds, stabbed by a thousand swords;

I don’t want for this eulogy to my emptiness:
To be long;
But I hope that all of you bear with me:
Because soon I will lose this symphony;
Its been years since I have happily sung a song;
For joy for me has become a blasphemy;

I hope the critics will forgive my technique;
I hope they will forgive me, for I cannot.