Black painted on my body in a loose fitted dress, thigh high stockings with a white lace border around the top. The shoes I wore to my brothers graduation. My hair hanging loose over my shoulders and down my back.

Black covered on bodies with pale or dark skin, all dressed from head to toe in clothes they wear to everyone's funerals. All their lost ones in their head today.

Black smeared mascara dripping down my cheek, mother wipes away my tears but is too slow to catch the next one falling.

Black and white blurred people all shaking my hand, and grabbing my shoulders as I stare into the ground trying to remember the last words he said to me.

Black filled mind with thoughts of his laughter and the way his wrinkles sometimes faded when he cried, or the time when I was a child and he threw me up high, always catching me and holding me as I cried.

Black lifeless eyes are staring at me now, I can't even recognize his face, it's not even him. I stand before my grandfather remembering that he was the only man who swept me off my feet and the only man I loved nonetheless.

When september comes
I'll remember when you were here,
Before all the bouquets and tombstones,
The house on the hill,
Asleep in the backseat,
Watching street lamps on quiet corners,
Waiting to knock on your door,
when september comes,
I'll visit your earthly bed,
Remember all the different reasons,
Why we wished you stayed

At one moment, your depression is telling you that you don't care what happens. Then the next moment, your anxiety is screaming and clawing at you to do something. Having depression and anxiety is a constant war inside of yourself. Though, there are no winners.

Today I stopped believing I was a good man
I know about these demons
All of them by name
The vices they have gifted me
Conversing with my addictions
Making plans for the future
And tightening the chains

Today I stopped believing I was a good man
I've identified all the leaks in my hull
Letting the Atlantic rush on in
Duct tape can not fix every hole
That you have left in me

Today I stopped believing I was a good man
I do not care about this body anymore
Wishing to rid myself of it
Liberation will be the song I shall dance to
Once this heart has forgotten it's rhythm
And my blood pumps in tune again

walking on stones
is like stepping on bones
no ringing on the phone
dusty air is blown

so high above is the sun
desert land is no fun
living but life's gone
wishing this journey be done

saw a happy man
a heart of colorful ocean
wonder what made him tan
wonder what is his plan

i went to him, holding a dove
i asked him and he looked above
he ticks because of love
sacrificed hands beneath those gloves

i walked away
my mind is still in grey
never believed his way
wanted to remodel his common clay

walking on stones
just stones and stones
no ringing on the phone
kept walking on stones

Borrowed world
Borrowed time
Borrowed life
Borrowed feelings
In this fantasy we shared
All are remembered
Not a promise
But something to remember

Five,
Sleeping soundly
Snuggling
The teddybear.
Protector
From monsters,
Sword in paw.
Ten,
Tears rolling
Down her small face,
"Go back to bed,"
"You're too old
For this nonsense"
Daddy stopped checking
For the monsters
Three years before.
Twelve,
Turn on the lights,
Check the bed,
The closet,
Dark corners.
Fear creeping
Through every bone,
Off with the light,
Two steps and
One jump
To make it to the bed.
Sixteen,
Tear soaked pillows,
Blade in hand,
The only fear
Is for what she feels,
She stopped searching
When she realized
The monsters
Were inside her