an animal - what animal ? - a fox
peeling off it's pale socks    bit the hems between it's teeth
slimmed feet
it walks now   to more silent a world
viewed in billowing gladness
many doses thick     veil it from our dull sense ability
we are a haunting to its realm

When he tells you that he is going to be honest
Brace yourself for the worst
Expect nothing less than blow to the chest
And make sure there is something to fall back on
There will be no arms to catch you
When he tells you that he met someone else
He is trying to tell you
That he met someone better
What he is saying
Is that he wants to love her
And that you
Are nothing more than a release
What he wants from you
Is purely physical
He will use your body
But crave her heart
It is understandable
There is no reason for him to want yours
Broken things aren't good for much anyway
He will ask for no strings
Unaware that you are used to being a puppet
And every time you open your mouth
You spill words that have been silenced by men's hands
How many times do they have to enter you without permission
For your lips to shut completely
Strings or not,
You are still dangling from a thread
When he tells you that he doesn't want to hurt you
Believe him
Anyone who really wants to
Will not tell you
What he doesn't know
Is that pain is inevitable
And you have so much of it already
You swallow it in doses mixed with memory every single night
Closed eyes and flashback
There are too many reminders already
You do not need any more
Instead cover up with a cigarette
And then another
I guess it's better
To know from the beginning
That he will end up leaving
A fair warning
Not to get attached
Does he know
That your heart is made of glue
Impossible to hold just once
Does he know
Of your velcro skin
And how it rips every time you are let go
You wonder how many times it will take
Before you learn to stop clinging to sand paper
When he tells you to keep this to yourself
And to not tell your friends that he is an *******
You will oblige
After all,
His reputation is far more important than your sanity
Far more superior than your dignity
And everyone knows a straight white boy's biggest priority
Is worrying about what others think of them
Instead of telling anyone
You will just write a poem
With the intent that someday the whole world will know
And maybe one day they will

When he ends all of this by saying that he is here for you
If you ever need anything
Laugh
Because you know the only thing you truly need
Is a good book
And a bottle of whiskey
Make sure to tell him
You never needed him
To begin with
And you never will.

i know nothing more than the
crippling weight of my self hate
the familiar bitter taste of pity
i spit out in doses as i laugh in mockery
but this time i could learn
how to sink into someone else this time
learn to unpick their seams
to crumble and unravel and fall apart for me

i am burning inside.
don't get too close, you'll feel the scorching heat,
the flames that flicker warning you of the ash to come
i beg you to run away yet strain my hand tighter around yours
(fingertips blackened; a mirror to the soul)
while certain a finger of two is breaking, and not stopping.

i am the embodiment of hurt.
i'm a mess of splattered nonsensical pain
i want you to hate me yet i do not want you
to hate me
or leave me.
i want to leave the fire started in my chest
spreading its destruction
but that would be the desire for something impossible
and that is laughable. like me.
like you ever loving me properly.

because no matter how many salty tears i cry
the pathetic attempt to calm the flames
i only create an ocean we both drown in
i am the anchor to your sinking  bombed ship
pulling you down with me
i am the coat i never want you to take off
even though the heat is overwhelming.
and i want to keep you safe from me
but in my mind, the thought concludes to the action
of adding more layers.
and then the seams
burst.

i am sorry you love me.

She is a medicine that I must take in small doses.
A prescription that I've hated the taste of since I started it years ago.
I can't stop taking it now, we've gone so far together,
And I don't want to cause any issues.
If I take my medicine more often than usual,
She will give me stomach aches.
I hate the taste of my medicine,
But if I take it every once in a while, it's tolerable, and I don't mind it.
Then I think about the fact that I'm taking medicine,
And my body aches once more.
If I don't take it, I'm full of guilt.
If I do take it, I'm full of pain.
She is a prescription that will pain me forever

I'm the wounded swallow
With a needle in my arm and multiple doses of thoughts
I'm god of the world
That doesn't belong to me
Drowned in my bath
My own ocean
As deep as thoughts
As sweet as dreams
As dark as past
I still have that artist fingers
Which leaks the truth
The sharp knives that tears apart
I have demons behind my eyes
A stone in my chest
An aimed heart in my head, which I call brain
My candle still burns
By a different flame

Can we truly erase the mistakes a pack of lies we built this wall now its simply stands upon shifting sands and a awkward silence.
Another cruel ***** another lost ***** consumed by ego.

Did the fire simply smolder or did we do all to destroy it ourselves my dear?

Painted pictures are simply things to collect dust like worn romance novels and assorted fairytales lets fix together least maybe we can drown in this misery together aside from others  *******.

In strangers touch and a soul to lost for you to care .
the pawn  no place  held for the queen how I remember you in tatters long before this scene.


Lets drop the act simply to see it die.
Burn it down to the rafters  and enjoy the bliss of chaos so perfectly divine.

I no longer care and you just no longer mask your lies as well as before.

Two doses of poison never meant to mix .
Seems were the perfect storm it  was a beautiful summer in hell.
A edge to sharp to stand so we simply fell for lack of nothing better to do.

The illusion has long passed .
And now only are scars remain.

Neuroscience is here. Now,
as you read through the piece,
whatever year may be,
consider the poetry
in my child's ignorance
and make beliefs.

It's as if every connection snapped
when my brain said goodbye.
Daily, nightly doses of elsewhere;
wherever the great wave takes me.

Are there new channels I could frequent
to cross the dementias divide
of our biologies?

Shall we grow into Earth
to be songs of gods
and plunder of sinners?

In entropy's defense,
I am not their age of warrior;
I am not this kind of *human;
sabotaging evolution is not my game.

Of drones,
these thoughtless Things,
they've not this network;
these tendrils sapients have made,
They snap when we sleep.

there's no longer enough sleeping
medication to put me to sleep for a couple
of hours
the doses aren't strong enough to knock
me out of staring at my fears on the
blank ceiling
toss
turn
bury my head
check my phone
repeat
i still can't escape the fears
the ones that i make up in my head
and the ones that happened once before
my biggest fear?
losing you again
but i believe you when you say
you're not going anywhere this time
and knowing that puts me to ease tonight

Sisters go through phases
Of the rising and setting moon
Sharing laughter of an lost language
Time captured in bottles
To be opened again
After absence and distance
And change.

To open and drink down the elixir
A concoction of connection that hits fast
Bubbles of memories
Hick-ups of the poignant points past
Between real life boasting.

Getting to know daily rituals and styles
Each sister developed so differently.
Acceptance is the only shared emotion
As well as wonder and curiosity
Related by blood
Yet so easy as friends
Not many are so lucky.

No matter how close we get to a friend
Our time capsule is filled to brim
Of decades worth of silliness and shame.
Doses of reality, moments of reflection
Not all was fun and joy.

The hard times molded our genuineness
Conflict shaped our resilience
Anxiety dealt with in opposite
Sill never letting go
Together in suffering we bonded
Holding close our sanity and hearts.

Alas, our time together waxes and wanes
Always there but not always visual.
"I love you Rai Rai."
"Same same Blue Jai."
Together in the imagination station.

When people exclaim, "Well, holy Moses!"
I find it funny.  The guy drinks doses
Heroic of wine and loves his boys
Like ***-wee Herman loves his toys!

O.O

When I was at my worst
When I was just about to jump,
I got a prescription
From life
Two doses of her
One to three times
A day,
To ease my soul
To bring sleep
To feel again
To make me
Sure footed,
But the side effects
Were worse than
My initial sickness
Heartbreak and doubt
Or so I thought,
In recovery
I look back
And realize
At least
I'm still alive
And I no longer
Want to let go;
Thanks to her,
My placebo...
APAD13 - 054 © okpoet

Socrates consumed Hemlock,
Cleopatra embraced the Asp,
Alan Turing ate an apple laced with cyanide,
I, like those before me,
Have picked my poison;
An absinthe-eyed, quicksilver-tongued boy.
He was unsettled when I answered with the truth of his query,
Yes, he is poison,
I knowingly and willingly consume every drop of him,
Not all toxicity is solely adverse,
Radiation treats cancer,
Venom in low doses is an antidote,
Ethanol relaxes muscle and numbs the emotions.
He is my poison and my antidote,
He is the corrosive acid that dissolves gear-stopping rust,
I, in kind, am the poison apple of his eye,
Or so he says,
And so, we two, bask in the destruction of ourselves,
Consuming each other's pain, insecurity, madness, and lust,
Why is it that he, a poison, is the one I trust?

Untitled

We once surrendered to desire

Willingly forging ourselves to delicious heights

At night, lazy, touching the chaos of fantasy

In doses playing our coming apocalypse

In the end lies only pain ~M

If I am waiting, why not now I ask?
Must I receive your elegance in a slowly introduced doses, simply not to overdose on that of which is your perfection?
If I am waiting, what defines my love to be that of the tangible,
an idea shaped and distorted horribly in my own head?

I’m always that of a time keeper, counting the intervals between the dials of each millimeter between the second markers on the grandfather clock, stretched into a string of ever-expanding infinity.
A line that over laps beyond comprehension, builds that of dimension, time and space, we come colliding!
Yes we do, we always do, if one thing I can count on, it is this.

We are that of every love, repetitive but never stagnant, ever shifting, ever changing, just… beauty in the bell jar.
Captured mid second, frozen in time, in a place
where we meet simply by chance, I will live that of a billion lives, if not for anything more then just one single chance.
I would put my mind in every living creature that has echoed before me, along side me, and will continue to do so long after I depart.
I will short end a fuse to a bomb there for springing a chain reaction, surging convulsions of electricity that only then could even conceive to recognize that of which is my own consciousness!

The purity in the moment of coincidence that takes place when we meet.
That of a flutter of a butterflies wings, the rippling effect of said butterfly.
We are and forever will be locked in sight, because I believe, oh how I believe-

And does my pinky hurt so with the tug of this red string leading me to that of which is you.
It was never a safe path I admit but one for the likes of the profound and the brave.
To build me up, to break me down!
I follow this red string and endure every challenge the gods deem fit for my conditioning.
Because on the other side of that red string is you, and when I say.. It just had to be you….

Theses lives we live, these perceptions we carry, the sounds of music pleasing to the ear, and the books we read that make our eyes soar.
I find myself here in a pool of my own tears dabbed with a sense of poetic justice and as this unusual shade of blue, oh that unusual shade of blue that car bared that day in it’s paint.
The whoosh and whirr of the engine roaring so silently but valiantly, if not to be a that of a last act effort to simply warn me of the moment I’ve been waiting for only my entire existence.
That sound it couldn’t reach my ears in any plausible way but somehow I knew when my eyes were lifted by that passing shade of an unusual blue that was that of a fleeting glimpse of scenery.
My alerts were called to attention, if not just to gaze and check the progression that time has had around me.
So tell me what is the chance of a million chances if not one but of infinitely shifting possibilities and interchanging ideas, what is the chance, that my eyes met with yours that day?
When that car that was painted an unusual shade of blue passed on by in an explosion of fate and destiny.
I bet you the driver of that car didn’t even know how important his role in fate & destiny was that day, what leads me to you that of which was of an odd and unusual shade of blue.
My attentions were called to this date, this second, this very moment, and as I become aware of my shifting surroundings, in the fog of the overwhelming take in of absolutely everything…

I see you, with a voice soft and elegant, hair stained with mystery of time, a face, oh she has a face! with eyes the ones I dream only to stare into until the ends of time, a mouth with lips I can only compare to the soft touch of velvet, and the skin I rub the back of my hand on to check if you have a fever….

For time is not that of restraint, because some part of me knows the whoa of your ever lasting echo.
your existence is so potent with fragrance.
I could smell you since I was in the womb, and when I cried for first the very first time fresh out of my mother’s womb, I cried with the worst feeling I had ever felt, to be born into a world where we have yet to meet.
Almost as if the Angels of oblivion “shh”ed me of the knowledge of the love I will come to know, but I am left with this eternal void with a depth so great it is beyond any means of measurement.

Oh the sorrow that moans, alone and riddled, all the time that is infinitely expanding, tick tocking, and slipping into the future ever so slightly.
Between my short spark of existence and yours was a magnet that chose you and I to be intertwined in the fibers that are the forevers of time.. When I found you.
Because some part of me knows the whoa of your echo, I’ve always known.
Your existence is so potent with fragrance, I could smell you since I was in the womb, and when we first touched you awakened me with the familiarity of that fragrance which I already somehow knew, but never really could put my finger on the idea.
The “I’m home” that rushed over me, the forevers in beckoning, chiming to a melody of birds singing in joy, with the hormones of spring in full roar, an ode to the time keeper himself when I say.. I only want more time with you….

The beauty that lies in that moment is the realization, that I can wait, though I rather not.
Because I can feel you echoing in the fibers of my existence crying out to be found and awakened, and oh am I searching in the eyes of every love that ever fell short.
Only in failed attempt to capture the essence that is you.
Because you just know, you’ve always known, our souls calls out and little do our increasingly limiting minds know, the storm you will have on me..
The desert inside me screaming with drought, and your existence quenches my souls thirst.

I know my heart strings would snap if my life wasn’t that of a mosaic to be built upon just for you.
The time I spent in solidarity, the desolation grew inside me, so I seek, I look, and sometimes I make mistakes, but my heart belongs to you and only you, the women with hair that is stained with the mystery of time….

WHEN will you come out of your shadows, WHERE will I be, WHAT decisions must I make to perfectly aline my life to one day run into you by that of simply chance, and oh I’ve said it a million time but WHY must I wait?
It is nothing short of crippling to know that of which is on the line, I can feel your vibrations more than ever now if not before, and I see the flame that lights the wic of this candle burning method that is my soul.
I let go, and I trust fate and destiny because they hold something of great important to me, and dare if I forsake it, they might just make me not be able to find my keys the day I’m supposed to run into you by that of chance, and I need to be able to find those keys oh so desperately.
So I say “praise the lords of time!” and I swear on my existence if that of which is not meaningless, that you give me meaning, in every way, shape and form.
You are that of winters mid day, you are that of a summer sunset, you’re the smell of a never before opened book, you are the melody that catches my ear every time.
Because you were always there for every single living being if not just me, you were always there, and I will meet you in all the lives I live, because with hope there is a way, and sure there may be dead ends, and forsaken ending, but where I survive, where I live another day, where I see through the eyes of which is mortal, I will devote my effort to search for you my love…

The unspoken beauty of always knowing when I say.. “when I get married” “when I have children” “when I die she will be the last face I see” we and myself including say these things these silly things as if life is to viewed as a promise.
With ever so fragile existences, we die a thousand times if only just to meet once.

Even with our own fragile existences thrown in the balance reality forces the idea that we are a pointless specs in all that is nothing, and I spit at that idea, I spit to it!
Because when I say those things I’m putting my trust in the fact that some day I just know we will meet….

Maybe we will be lucky and find ourselves in park as children and form a love in the shine of innocence that grows like a hundred year old oak tree.
Or if we meet in a place as old as time itself with that smile only to be lighted with a hint of embarrassment showing on your rose red cheeks and that look on your face filled with rush and panic, only to be becoming of you, a sense of urgency floods when you say, when you always say, what you have said so many times before, and will continue to say in the whoas of forever… “I’m sorry I was late.” And I will always return with “it was worth the wait…”

your hands are the flowers on my uncles grave
wilted like cancer in his lungs
childish games played in the corners of his house
hiding when we heard his screams late in the night
a ticking tocking tick following us from his hospice room
.. / -.. --- -. .----. - / .-- .- -. - / - --- / -.. .. .
that sound click clacked its way into my childhood the way the broken gears on my dead grandmothers clock chimed somehow only on her birthday the way your car turned over your truck turning over your hands turning over .. / -.. --- -. .----. - / .-- .- -. - / - --- / -.. .. . you didn't understand the click clack paddy whack childish game that I thought could butterfly its way between you and me and the trees the way my uncle mothballed his way into my family with his months and dots and dashes  .. / -.. --- -. .----. - / .-- .- -. - / - --- / -.. .. .
my mother gave him his morphine and slipped three extra doses into his system because he said he didn't want to feel the pain anymore
he didn't want to look at me and my sister and cry not because he thought we were beautiful but because he could not breathe
he didn't want to cry and holler in his sleep because his chemo gave him night terrors because his chemo made him so hungry so thirsty he could not drink he could not eat  .. / -.. --- -. .----. - / .-- .- -. - / - --- / -.. .. . my mother could not listen to him anymore she could not tell me and my sisters and my brothers to sit quietly and wait for him to be able to tolerate the pain again
my mother did not want to learn to fall asleep to his cries as well as hers and my fathers and mine
he died peacefully and alone and tired
.. / -.. --- -. .----. - / .-- .- -. - / - --- / -.. .. .
but I still wake up to his screaming
and fall asleep to his echoes

Words are more than sounds that are born from simple shapes the mouth make, more than mere vibrations that have spilled from your voice box and into the open air.
Words are vessels which can cradle feelings of beauty and happiness.
Other times it can be a syringe which injects poisonous and deadly thoughts into the brain.

*I think it is safe to say I have had my fair share of these doses.

you were just a teen

but i was less than that

i was so confused on how to act

i looked at you and your long blonde hair

and somehow found myself in there.



your confusion left me feeling sure

your hand in mine, i felt secure

and I know it must’ve hurt that
all people wanted was
more more more


and-
i know you never needed anyone

after you lost your drug

but when a relationship dies, death still can’t conquer love

and love was all around you

but you purposely sought out hate

inhaled it down, held it in,

and for once, i couldn’t relate


i watched you plan your fate

through your destruction and watched you spiral

and when i went to pull you out

you let out this sickly smile

as if begging me to let you be

convincing yourself this was your destiny

as if pain in these doses was keeping you alive

who was this person i saw inside?



and all those times you attacked me with your eyes

and all those times you had me stuck in your lines

you were just ******* with our minds

cuz you enjoyed this maniacal ride



i still
would
reach for your hand

to bring you back,
it was always my plan

but with walls so thick and made of stone

to save you, i learned, i had to leave you alone.

Filaments fixed on your eyes all night
and the possibility of a chance, of an opportunity,
that I’ll be able to talk to you,
because the club lights are blue
stretched like animal hide across your own hide:
complexion clear cheeks still rouged
though tidal club glow is still blue.

It’s pathetic, worse than any diabetic
with their HumaPen Memoir insulin
length of pen, recording the time
and date
and precise amount of pain
they inject from the last 16 doses.

My pen is my keyboard and records
miserable times
and forgotten dates in cafes
and precise amounts of pain,
though this diabetic is a pathetic poet
and he knows it.

I'm carelessly controlling my life
Or to my knowledge at least
I wish my will was free
So I could have an out for all my discrepancies
But that would mean I would have to believe
In you, and I don't want to
Cause your not real
Or so you say
Which I know is a lie
You prove it to many everyday

I am what I can see
I am what i can feel
I am the one in pain
It's my life you you had to steal
Knocking off hours, days, years
For short doses with no fear
I am in control
I control me
That’s what both you and I want me to believe
But only one of us knows the truth
Of how much you choose to control
How much of you power you abuse

I shake and I quiver and don't know why
I am oppressed and messed up broken
from the inside
they told me I'm fine and that it gets better
it always doses
it has to
we have to accept those things that make us different
the things that set us apart
the things that brake us
I shake and I quiver and do know why
its because I'm different
and that's okay
I will shake and I will quiver
and it sometimes it makes me cry

i wrote you a lil sumthin i hope you dont mind me reading i thought of you today , this hurt me very deeply. there once was a time i thought you'd never leave me lemme know if im wrong but lately ive been thinkin
over on how i was so ignorant, **** you had me fooled yeah i was convinced n now this achin pain inside my chest has become an old friend n i dress myself w a smile i still play pretend
in the end that may be pathetic but ******* aint it the truth youve left my heart all black and blue i got many scars to match these wounds n is it possibly to be so beautifully bruised? n i mean this pains a reminder, you were once always there n w your symphonic soul i swear you ****** cared  but even at your lowest high i want you n your corrupted mind.

n here dear ive gathered a couple questions id really like to share you dont gotta answer no you dont even have to care but baby do you think of me now and then like i think of you? i mean ive had quite a few drinks n its aboutta quarter till 2 but you see my altered brain doesnt change my subconscious truth because at the end of each day my heart keeps beating for you. but youll ash me off , again and again , no worries though i know im nothing to sweat and im just waitin for the day ill wake without you inside my head. but you know truth be told thats not how this hear works ill look into those eyes again and revisit all my hurt. n im inconclusive of which evil is worse.

people tell me each n everyday not to let this world make me small but im only 5'1 yo i was never really tall n ya'll can keep on talkin **** on my style cause your words cant steal my smile. but im always questionin how much more can i even take daddys sick of seeing tears fall off this pretty face. iv been rollin on my own feelin so out of place i got so many fears im so unsure of my fait this future image isn clear n im sorry i cant be who i was past years. im changin yeah ***** a changin so are the dreams so are the demons i know ive grown cold but ive got my ****** reasons. this ***** gotten old my filthy conscious is a constant bleedin but i guess i must accept whats been placed upon my plate you were just another phony who couldnt relate n i guess thats your luck n my ****** mistake.

it was a foolish thing but quite beautiful too. those last words left a sting yeah im pretty bruised n now im hopin that this melody will relieve some pain inside the wounds because its a tragic thing a tragedy thats what i can conclude, thats why i smoke **** so i can be elude fill these lungs with smoke hopin highs will get me through hoping somehow i can cope rolla doobie maybe 2 laugh cause lifes a ****** joke i hung my neck inside a noose. maybe ill jus ****** choke ive been pullin on them ropes. n now im spittin fire so hot haydes jottin notes i got the devil askin for tips, baby ima make it n im gonna make it big. but they tellin me to start but idk where to begin.

so many bad moments followed by worse emotions when will it end? im hightenin the doses cause **** ive given it.  just walkin thro the motions less alive n mostly dead. doors just keep on closin im hungup with my regrets n these demons wont let me forget bad intentions, their why i havent slept. countless broken promises i can never mend thats why i do what i do so i can feel closer to death.
n now youve all been askin whats up inside my head, well your not gonna like the answer your about to get. evils on my ****** conscious. its clutterin my brain that must be the reason im so inmuthafuckinsane. always ****** w bad **** n even worse people stuck inside a trip soaked in all the evils but everything i spit is venomous that ****** lethal n even if i overdose ima cop a sequal cause im so invincible tearin up traditional principals
yaaa im so ******* illll hopefully ya'll catch this sickness
so busy making some bills
honey moneys on my wishlist
and homies know this
i always gotta sack of that purple potent
n now im on a mission lookin for that purple potion
put my mind ina wavy motion im a constant floatin.
n now my parents are makin a commotion

cierra baby just get off the ****** drugs
sorry mom im crazy yeah im really ******* nuts.
this mind is fully corrupt. the world ****** it like a ****.

an obsession defined is no obsession at all
strong, barely controllable, passion, when it rules
is invisible to the

when the storm passes
you are seeing the earth in the process of balance
the storms are not blotches of color on a screen
they do not follow dotted lines or spiked curves
they are living breathing churning of equipoise
and a universe strongly influenced by entropy
balance being a continuous give and take
in both large and small doses

you are truly alive only when you are young

the effects of todays spring thaw
will be felt tomorrow in the lower Lamoille
there seems to be room for more river
between the bank
the machines will increase flow
both upstream and down in a balance of volume

and it has been noticed that birds
prepare of the cold of the night
by roosting in pines facing the direction
of the morning sun

As if I have been the long a waited
Radiation suffocating,
Patient in bed, empty men around me
Almost perfect now.

You carry your organs beautifully
Smiling wrinkles,
And in your words I can capture
Slideshows of your days
And nights also,
I spin them around in my mind
As I feed on daily doses
Of Ripened morphine
And self pity.

Soon you disappear and with you,
Another light bulb tickles itself
And shatters into darkness.

A familiar garden.
Irises quietly ponder,
Tulips shyly unfurl,
Daffodils chime with glee.

Each seed buried and broken,
Carving paths and
Gasping for breath.
Sunlight in small doses
And rain in large.
Relentless battles against those who
Grew faster and taller but
Fell much harder.

A moment of flourishing
From a thousand moments of nourishing.
Petals soaking up
The glory of the day and
The tranquility of the night.

And as the season concludes
And the seeds fall once more,
I have faith
That my sacrifice will once more feed
The familiar garden.

MOVEMENT I (written to be performed on tárogató, accompanied by acoustic guitar)

"The morn rises o'erhead
The baker bakes the daily bread
The people smell the blooming roses
Happiness in smaller doses

The children go off to their school
And think learning is ever so cruel
But they'll wish these days back
Everyone will wish these days back

Glowing rays crown the apartments
It is, in return, dubbed glorious hence
Though the clouds will later darken
And the air will taste of iron"

MOVEMENT II (written to be performed on baritone saxophone)

"Radiant, glowing
Destructive but invisible
The naked eye suffers
The body faulters and wilts
Crime and agony
Pain and suffering
Endless, endless throes of woes
Breaths draw short
The air becomes thin
The water grows darker
Blackness overtakes
This is the realm of Death
Come to take ye
Who dare tempt his fated word.

You, whose body fails
Whose organs rupture and fall apart
I suggest you tell your fellow man
Die screaming
The alternative is far more sinister."

MOVEMENT III (written to be performed on contrabass clarinet, accompanied by prepared electric guitar and bowed cymbals)

"Bloom (wilt)
Grow (die)
Sane (mind)
Must (cry)
...
Decay (decay (decay (decay (decay))))
And a reminder for the future folk:
Bury your dead far beneath."

You crept into my soul
As much as
I wished it wasn’t so
Between gasps and tears
Between swears and cheers
As much as I wished it wasn’t so

One day you were there
Growing inside of the life
I thought was mine
But God has other plans….
Sometime

Acceptance comes in small doses
Unlike declarations from Moses
Bad time, good time, what does it know?
When it snuggles into your body to grow
If wishes were horses
Beggars would ride
If wishes were horses
I wanted to hide

Three months you had grown
Three months I had known
You had grown in my heart
In My Life …
Were a part

Life takes its turn
Lessons to learn
Sometimes they’re good
And sometimes they’re just…
Lessons you should
One day I must…..

Forgive myself
For ever not wanting you

Something has changed.
A plate tectonic has shifted inside my heart,
Rebuilding the mountain that she and I used to climb together.

Just seeing her face again reminded me of all the good times.
They outweighed the bad times,
Like a Sumo wrestler outweighs a small child.

I search valleys and hills
For the words to tell her
That I miss the way her eyes light up
And how her smile makes the pain go away,
Faster than three doses of oxycodone.

It is incredible how easily I am falling back in.

In March of 2010 a 46 year old white male was brought to this hospital after a severe 'episode'. He was placed in the Mental Health Intensive Care Unit .  He was diagnosed with " Major Depression ". This is considered Slow Death , a treatable disorder by the AMA currently . Artist and Architect will lay out Hallucinations and conceptual designs , Engineers , Mathematicians and Surveyors will coordinate more pills at higher doses because minute details to within fractions of an inch followed by schizophrenia by Earth moving equipment , graders , bulldozers , psychotic episodes , dump trucks , Carpenters and Concrete ,  bi-polar disorder and  Bricklayer will labor different Help treatment methods because the drugs are having absolutely no piece by piece constructing form , pylon , shoring embankments for Steel Worker and Welder ,Pipefitter and Increased risk of suicide was reported for Plumber and all manner of tradesman , supplier and Pharmacist ........
            Psychiatrist and Psychologist will formulate a treatment plan which will include drug therapy and counseling sessions with Electrician and patient and Spouse plus other family members if needed in order to reach the island Drowning which will be a difficult task . Emory Hospital is conducting new research because they finally admit to depression drugs  not working in Freak more than half the patients today , like every other building bridges in hopes of getting to the island that is depression .