Micro

Depression kicks like a Nazi in the tube station
somewhere around midnight
brown boots and leather
the crass spill of the takeaway
and unopened wine
some guttural call
to toxic men
kicks to the face and bravery in numbers
Nazis wear blue and you called them
to beat down the broken
to undefend the defenseless
who lie in unfailing truth
some vicious scream to conformity
and deference to authority
and depression demands
the deserving

with thanks to The Jam for suggesting some of the imagery. I wrote this in under 2 minutes so please excuse its primitive nature

Satellite

Do not seek me under sun’s rise or set
not in fields of flowering spring
I am not there anymore
look for me under that funeral moon
Do not seek me under blue skies or grey
not in healing rain or sunshine bright
I do not reside in those halls
look for me under the funeral moon
Do not seek me in the blossom of life
not in graces of gods or delight
I will be long departed
look for me under the funeral moon
Do not seek me in the hallows of love
not in beauty of lust or desire
I have no place in this play
look for me under the funeral moon
Do not seek me in muse’s embrace
not in charms of pleasure or glory
I taste the walls of despair
look for me under the funeral moon
look for me under the funeral moon

Fragment 0.3

There is a sound that only I can hear
The sound of hardening heart and chilling soul
The sound of the death of hope
There is nothing left inside but rage
A hollowness of spirit that drives vengeance and despair
You sowed so you must reap
This whirlwind
And a man with nothing left to lose
Is the most dangerous beast

Fragment 0.2

I write from the bleeding edge
from razor blades and coffin nails
from suicide and sacrifice
I write from my ugly face
and the beauty of my words
I write from love and loss and sorrow
and the end of the only thing that
ever really mattered
I write the whisper into screaming night
I write the plea for mercy or the
cold release of death
I write as poets always have
in their desperate prayer
I write in love and despairing hope
I write to you

Fragment 0.1

There have been fifty-nine days
85,000 lonely minutes
and each is worse than the last
an endless stream of suffering and sorrows
an aching demand for your closeness and love
These expressions of my body
an echo of the turmoil of my heart
fifty-nine days
may the gods have mercy on my soul