Rivers End....

Tears falling seemingly without end till one day, you wake up again. Depression isn't sadness, or loss of hope, it is the pit of raw emptiness dug deep into your chest. The biting spade removing everything but frustration: the looking for what was felt before. Everything else is replaced by nothing, which is the perdition and desolation of the heart. A contradiction? Perhaps. Would a raven peck out my eyes... then I could feel... something... ANYTHING! Perhaps the caress of fallen autumn leaves and cold wet grass pressed neatly against my dying form would bring a return of dreams. The scent of fir whispering lamentations to me, stirring long absent spirits from the cemetery of my soul. And rain... falling rain.... perhaps this would do what science can not: give back my longings and my life.
If there was pain, agony, or utter despair... at least then I would feel something!
I brushed her hand today... looked into her arctic eyes.... and felt nothing.... The frustration of that absence is worse than the feeling of hopelessness brought on by being eternally separated from her.
The moon's howling light bringing winter, might awaken feeling in me... hurry four winds and bring us to fall and her frosted crown of biting misery. The glaring stars and fallen thoughts of love are better dwelt upon in autumnal mouldering graveyards while feeling the weight of a heavy heart, than banally wondering what one is doing alive and awake.
Depression is worse than misery, it is nothing.
The razor is my answer
menschfeind menschfeind
Aug 10, 2010