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when silence is thickest I can see the ... I can see the ... when is silence thickest I want to know someone tell me remind me what is silence sleep is silence I can see the dreams of the dead they fill me with cacophony and it's almost cathartic but not quite cathartic like the word cathartic is less caustic than cystic yet again wings crawl out of my back and I can fly but only downward in a world where the sky is the ground I've found the will to thrive and I've set it on the shelf along with rest stops that advertise scenic views and poetry lines I'm not comfortable sharing.

if depression took the form of a beast I would say it was a slug it wouldn't move very fast and it would look four ways at once it would have no shell and would be easily dehydrated it would be all the things a slug would except that it isn't and it didn't matter nothing matters and I actually like salt.

the roaring waterfall took you as I ran along the wild river's edge screaming your name and waving my arms as you sat calmly, facing forward the roaring waterfall took you and I watched your back hit that rock the crack in my mind shifted my views the roaring waterfall took you and now your ears and eyes are pooled blood the roaring waterfall took you

words float around in my head like nervous fishes in a small pond I reach in to grab one they all scatter

I return to the darkened corridors of my mind, and find that your perfume has made its way down here. when I stare into the void and fear the loss of Our history, I find a strange peace when I breathe through my nose. I love you but you may never hear those words at least not directly or not from me and as my heart is calm in your presence I am made an example of why humans can never be alone.

I've lost the feeling in my legs because I sat on them too long. I had to lift them one at a time with my own two hands and shake them until they prickled back to life I think my depression and sadness are like my legs.

I catch them as they fall the little birds from her window and they whisper rain-stained words for me to look up, look up as more fall the sky is filled with the paper cranes rushing in a desperate flight wishing through the air on dreams and floating lanterns and then I see her drifting floating out the window down to me at a speed I can't remember and I brace to impact but she lands safely, softly in my arms and the raining, wishing sky looks orange to the east where broken and blackened clouds part way to a sunset passing a sunrise and to that end I walk and she cries to an exhausted sleep in my arms and the suns are respite for my h

When I was three i knew your name for as long as you were there at ten, we'd sit shoulder-to-shoulder at the side of the house we'd explore imagination as driver and passenger the car would take shape in our minds at twenty school was gone and we pursued our dreams and fell, and fell and fell again fresh out of the nest with our wings already clipped will you be there when we're thirty starting to see the finish line or when we're forty wondering what to do next will you be there when we're fifty and i get sick hospitalized for a year what about sixty? when i'm reading children's stories behind a bushy beard or seventy when my handspr

the sea escapes the shore comes back for more the sun escapes the night comes back with light the poet escapes the rhyme comes back with more words the child escapes his sentence comes back with scrapes and bruises the bird escapes the spider but the spider comes back with another the police escapes the law comes back in chains the old man escapes this life