Depression

she takes.

if shyness shamed
the oceans slaughting
a bag of bones, it lain a stentorian love
if shyness shamed
she recalls in deathly naught the beguile
of roses, adulterated by her fingers,
written in verses yet morose

lies.

for the stars
i lie
diminish i see the moon
fled the rain, death
poising swiftly, & unspeaking

“30 July 2018” by adreamy1.

These days, I enjoy solitude. Miles away from my family, I now humbly dwell in the bleak, quite well-maintained, but sometimes-smelly establishment provided by my university. The creatures that live here besides me, though interesting at first, have now begun to bore me. To some extent, life is monotonous here. It’s ‘Eat, sleep, drink alcohol/Smoke something/ play either Fornite or PUBG or CSGO or COD/go crazy on social media, repeat.’ And since I try to keep constant vigilance against the penultimate phrase of this MUCH followed and respected vision of these creatures, I usually end up alone. It’s not that I don’t cherish these moments of free-thinking and self-inspection. But I miss the days where I am surrounded by people with passion, madness, and inspiration. I miss the light of glee gleaming from those having an affinity with the arts; of music and literature.

I can not find any way alone (ft. Ryan Hair).

As I go through this journey of life,
I can not find any way alone. I need you by my side.
I need you to be my true north, my compass, and my guide.

Subdued, my dear.
Unreeling in the emptiness
in limb by limb
we are dreaming;
the wind howls
and endures the body of the crow
and pigeon

into loneliness.

dream from dream

godly fields

of life then lassitude

of the shunt of death.

Father listens to what I read,

Noveau waves in homemade poetry; dream from dream

godly fields

of life then lassitude

of the shunt of death.

Father listens to what I read,

Noveau waves in homemade poetry;

a dream that wasn’t mine.

If ever I were to meet
the dream by sea-green eyes
as they sleep, a beveled glass
yet a reverie, I would impose
upon those that left
in the legs of womb
to a leave-taking of melancholy
as death alone drowns
as the darkened sunset drowns.