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There are so many people I miss, especially my wife, and the very exciting things we used to do together. Sometimes I am sorrowfully speechless at the thought of them, and often drowning in a pool of private tears over the loss of my one true love.  She looks past me as if to see through me as anything and everything deserves her attention more than I do.  However hard I try to pretend it isn't there, a gnawing heartache lingers through the day from the hours of crushing melancholy in the night, seeping into the tone of my voice, fading the vivid colors of the world to a drabby gray.  Even in laughter, I have to fight the dark clouds that threaten to cast a shadow in my expressions.  Can't pull a rabbit out of the hat anymore.  No more escape tricks. I am, fresh out of hope, physically exhausted, emotionally defeated to my core.  It is a very lonely place where all the doors have been shut and bolted from the outside, and the four baren dingy walls that fill my vision in the dimming landscape of life are a stinging reminder of my failures as a father and the inability to measure up as a good husband.  That hour is here, I knew it would come.  I'm off, to a better place. Goodbye.
brandon nagley Feb 2017
Arvanka, betwixt the Stygian muck and mire, mine arm's shalt grip thee in the fire; solace to thy bones.

Arvanka, repose Wilt be the new, passed the thundering drabby view, thy kiss to be the fuse; O'er the jungle fire.

Arvanka, forbearance mine encumbered lass, the hour wilt surely come to pass, ourn velvet blood to flow right passed, the foyer of enostikal swain.

©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poet's poetry
Arvanka: word I created(means hand in hand, side by side.)
Betwixt: between.
Stygian: very dark.
Mine: my.
Mire: situation of difficulty,stress.
Thee:you.
Thy:your.
Solace: comfort in stress.
Wilt:will.
Drabby: depressing.
O'er:over.
Forbearance:patience.
Encumbered: burdened.
Lass: young woman.
Wilt:will.
Ourn:our.
enostikal: word I made up meaning ( crazy in love) love beyond the perception of mankind.
Swain:lovers.
neth jones Oct 23
.

often   i am retrodden   after passing a lengthy sleep battle
day following day      i wake in and out   loftily bobbing
  nodding into conversation  and durring out          
                                 like a tiny failing electric fan
  struggling to appear present and take part
   then whirring   into a congested cumulus  

a colleague, (name slips me), sips her coffee
she dribbles her features into her colourful lap
her words become a slury chum of incoherence
(she may snap back if i have energy to retrieve her
she may  upon a whim   form another person altogether)

i have accumulated a D.S.C. (Depression Support Creature)
the opposing to what may seem                                                
                 this fella supports my depressions feature being
and monitor's my decline
fleshed out to drain me                                                          
      whilst acting as a detracting blurred vision
shaking in a drabby coat  and baring its dumbed face
i'm turned inward on drooping wealth                          
                           and rot in the anxious conglomeration
a distracted reality from reality already conquered
                         flagged and declared ;    
the phony thing that's real

— The End —