The wizened old man told me -
sustain the weary with a word
for many a one has none
to bring love and light
into the blight of their dreary days.

I asked which word
and through a wan smile
he said - you figure it out.

when life seems hopeless and despair
has grabbed hold and kept you there
inside the blackest places known
you feel scared and alone

search within, look deep inside
a tiny speck of hope implied
will grow so slowly then collide
with helpless thoughts that try to hide

it shimmers, swirls, burns like fire
picks you up and takes you higher
lifts you from the pits of hell
and suddenly, you can tell

your spirits brighter than the dark
you are a flash; you are a spark
that bathes the world with golden light
a lighthouse shining in the night

with your spirit that has grown
you sense a presence yet unknown
you squint to see, and you're shown
you have never been alone

a field of radiant, brilliant sparks
they glow and pulse, leave their marks
upon your tattered weary soul
they help to make you feel whole

so when the darkness has a grip
around you, helpless feelings slip
the light that's in your soul defends
the sparks are all of us, your friends

The insomnia gnawing through my weary bones
will never compare
to the feelings
of loving
and losing
You-

So difficult a thing to give the inexperienced a way to understand.
Why I am shaped the way I am by things I had never planned.

I could tell you of those things in the hope they would shine a light.
But unless you have been there you just couldn't see them right.

Now I know that from the outside I may look the same as you.
But I also know that on the inside I can see a different view.

Those unplanned things that changed me in oh so many ways.
Leaving me without a point or purpose facing lonely empty days.

So deep the changes made that I struggle to leave my own door.
In a head that despises minutes and asks what all the hours are for.

In a mind that knows me Oh so well fearing you can see inside.
Withdrawn from your society is my only safe place to hide.

My mind is not so broken that I have forgotten all my past.
It knows full well that by choice hope and love have been outcast.

To the inexperienced from a mind that survives a life in this way.
I hope you have clearer understanding of how I live my every day.

I have no wisdom to offer or warning of a path you should avoid.
External views wont show you why survival has been employed.

Where choice has different meaning, instinct plays a bigger part.
And mind suppresses both hope and dreams of a broken heart.

I am become who I am by the path my life road has turned.
I am this shape by instinct to survive, not from lessons I have learned.

Sock lost forever.

Having no words.
Laying down.
Decent.
Scattered.
In absurdness.
The best way.
Leaning over.
Sleep after.
Canadian jade.
Suspense.
With everything else to say.


Garrett Johnson.

Lay your hands on my cold and fragile bottle;
hold the cork and twist me-
gently--
slowly--
don’t stop until you hear me pop;
set my spirit free and I go astray-
into your soul so weary;
close your eyes, smell the earth in me-
herbs, tobaccos, vanillas, trees-
savor the aroma of heavens;
now pour me down in the empty glass-
of love and affection;
touch me with your lonely tongue;
indulge my warmth-
wrapping your delicate heart;
little sips-
after
little sips;
until-
you lose control.

In lethargies grip and restless mind,
I come again upon the day.
Where demons of my minds design,
find acres bare to frolic and to play.

An emptiness that invades my core,
until only black thought dwells in there.
Where tiredness is all I can feel,
and darkest depression is thoughts heir.

No calming thoughts to ease my mind,
and no safety can my lost soul yet feel.
The endless sensation of putrid stagnation,
no layers to other emotions have I left to peel.

Foreboding and deep weariness dark as shadow,
accompanies each thought and task within my day.
And though I seek escape by non-participation,
against thought there is no strategy I can play.

Turmoil to life's patterns of sleep and wakefulness,
where a soul and mind each attacks my own mortality.
Until left with just one clear and rational thought,
Of how simple and complete my final escape can be.

maybe we held each other too close
which made us now too loose.

maybe we became too dependent,
that made us now feel indifferent.

we can pretend this is easy,
but how long will we both feel weary?

Wearing out my smile
I grin once more in death’s face
How long can this last?