I do not know how long this summertime will last
or for how long these roses will bloom.
I do not know for how long we
can put off the winter of our lives.
I do not know the answers to any of these questions.
All I know is that with you by my side
I will weather through these withering winds
and travel down the path of demise.

How long can we battle the darkness of winter?
With my soul strengthened by yours,
forever my Darling. I will fight
and fight the recessing sun  
and still kiss every wrinkle  
and curve of this wilting rose.
As our blood turns to ice,
I will fight and toil.
I will face winter and its wrath
to keep you here with me.
As summertime morphs into winter
I will fight so our souls will combine and
transcend this material world,
so that when winter comes
I face it with you.

Turns out the joke's on me yet again...
Monsters don't really disappear when the light comes on.
And they don't hide when you shine the light on them either.

No. Instead they rise up. They grow to fill the space that was created by spotlighting them and become ready-


To be the star of a show that you helped to curate.






I thought for certainty that talking to you about my depression would somehow alleviate it in some way...
           
                             but it didn't...

I actually feel more like I'm recessing further since we spoke about this

Like I just let the demons out to run a muck instead of putting them down  to rest.

So instead of hurting me when I'm alone, it happens any time now.
When ever it likes

                               It  feeds



and I feel it eating me...
                                              
                 ­ and I want it to
-

Fine things lining pockets
And flawed gems from a faucet
It took a month to mar the clauses
long forgotten fiends and flowing
Nature lost scenery

It might be menial, but if I don't like the imagery
I'd use a run on and run on, running on
Fumes like carbon clouds, bowing at the center
Of the hopelessness I've found

Of moths and flame, danger and wanting
Nature and harboring diseases and watching
Crystalline precipices overblown from cold
Rain, eroding stone long since lain

Homes blown through in half a day
Another half century laid waste
Forage a new course for the streams
The selfish, like me only disagree

Despite the discontent
Restless nights and fires burning low
Into the biting air, a show of flair
Its not right, or fair to vent

Hollow, it would seem
Still stable, the ecosystem of
Constant change
Trying to be heard over a flood of filth

Tidal waves painting fields
Recessing long since venerated guest
Retaking ocean lost to sandy beaches
And kids with half a dream left in them
I spent my last penny on a whim

How did I know where this would go?
I never knew where time would take me in its flow.

So long has this heart by empty and devoid of a core,
a lack of love has left this boy with a sore...soul

And as I meandered from day to day not sure how to escape this prison in which I stayed.  I thought to myself, What the **** man can’t you just say something to someone.

They said if you build it they will come.
And if I could add up all the sums...of these bitter disappointments that have had there run.  I would come to the conclusion that there is no resolution, no simple answer to this lack of love convolution.  

Oh snap when an opportunity raps, I’m too hungry and too hard for this...but theres a chance I might not swing and miss.  Finally the time for a first kiss.

And this is the girl for me, she lets my soul fly so free.

And like a simple instrument I get played.

A different string gets yanked every ******* day,
What the **** don’t I get a say?

Whats the confusion about don’t you like me?
Why do you have to think so much lets just be.

And then the wait, **** I just want to date.

I ask for advice, everyone has their own insight.
and in a way I think they were all right.

Valid reasons for this lack of reason,
I don’t think love was ever in the air this season.

And this is the girl for me, she lets my soul fly so free.

They say time heals all wounds,
I think it also grants a boon.

We can look back at the choices me make,
And what part of ourselves we did forsake
In this quest to realize a dream that was guaranteed to rip apart at the seam.  Something we grasped at trying to make work by any means

...but no, its done and so we move on along trying to find our own song, Thoughts recessing as we move back into our own personal session, Life alone, it hurts to the bone, shuffling along like another drone on the telephone, filled with quiet moments in the zone, not a sound but the moan:

And this is the girl for me, she lets my soul fly so free.

I'm in class.
Every paper flip
Every cough
Sends me further
Recessing into my mind
I hike the Alps
I visit Mars
Time is called.
My mind is lost in space.

My intense fondness, draws me back to you.
Those aching fragments of something magnificent,
Sporadically stumbling against the walls of my soul.

Once more, your thought captures my whole being
And I feel myself recessing inwards,
Into the twilight of my mind where I can hold you.

There, our bright vivid colours swirl around one another,
Dancing as we did when were young atoms,
We sway in all directions, losing ourselves in the colours.

A  Ritual dance of primal attraction.
Where the lines, of your curves and my muscle merge,
We become one under the flame of love.

You are my harmony, as much as you were then.
The universe knows law, and my law is you.
I am bound to you, and I would have you into eternity.

I cannot craft words with beauty enough, to serve yours.
It is simple and primal what I feel, and I wear no mask.
You would have me forever, and I’d forever have you mine.

When you think about cracking an ego
You'll thinking of people's withstanding fortitude
Yet I'm tired of folks
and all their green tomato chutney sentiments

But lost in city road
Ones direction is awry
Asking profusely for directions
Everybody you met is friendly
Which goes against the grain

I'm an island to myself
Righting right from wrong
recessing the plates of your salad

A trembling pale girl enters a stone
fortress of faith, buttresses flying outside,
in hopes of finding a way to atone,
find an anchor in the world’s shifting tides.

This Gothic cathedral lifts her wet eyes
to its heavenward ribbed vaulted peaks.
They’re painted deep blue like starry skies
in remembrance of what Creator to old Abraham speaks.

There, where each vault’s stone arches crisscross,
shines out like a clear harvest moon
the radiant burst of a gilded boss
that gleams in the recessing gloom.

Adrift in this vast and sacred space,
thin curls of burnt incense waft by
to fill the young girl with scented grace
whilst she sits in this place with wide eyes.

The gold on the stone catches candlelight
and reflects its flickering blaze
as the quiet chanting of canticles might
let her senses be softly amazed.

While the twinkling of these numerous stars
fills her rediscovered heavens within,
the tides of her fears recede past sandbars,
leaving puddles of patience therein.

The promise made by the Father long ago —
Abraham’s children would a galaxy be —
finds fulfillment in this starry girl now aglow
since from her darkness she’s tenderly freed.

She found her anchor and cast it up to the skies.
It caught a bright star and held fast.
New dawn lit inside her in quiet reply,
telling her no tides of tempest can last.

Inverted hermit

Hole in time, like a well
Clay
Bricks swollen with memory
Diving deep into long churning oceans of night ink

And speak your peace
By standing softly
And letting time swill together in collected tidal pools - in the recessing draw of the ever-black


Bourne a-mast to the windly observance there

Are you the kind of person who loves romantic poetry?
Are you the kind of person who loves recessing parts of rhythmic *******?
I wondered when your question would come in the form of poetic thinking if the feeling felt off
Did the left-wing ascend your very soul, or were you intermittently aware of your mind's pleasure?
The same hand that jerks around that thought of progression?
Is this just a consideration, or I am willing to say love is timeless?
Are thoughts without ideals, or are we free from our own inhibitions?
Did the second line shock you, or we expect to question from the thoughtful viewing?
That descended into ****** thinking around some form of critical reasoning?
Then, you aren't like me