Winter steps firmly into the room
Fall, Spring, and even Summer are shaken
Everything Winter lays its black, brittle, cracked hands on
Loses it color
Even the Sun is frightened
Winter has a darkness of no other
Winter brings on thoughts of depression
It works its way into minds and simply
     Twists
Shoots through your eyes like a bullet to the brain
Instant and unnoticed, dead in a blink of an eye  
Then its dark thick roots feed on our brain
Then slowly claws its way down to your feet
     Relentlessly
Soon your feet are planted in one spot
You're a Winter tree, dead and dark
Your arms are its branches, for it to control
It
     Consumes
you
You dwell on one thing
Soon you smile at the thought
You long for it
     Death

Don't let that fiend
Step in and crumble your mind
Few recover
Nothing burns like the cold of snow
Melancholy is the sound of Winters trees brittle branches
Blowing through the icy, dry, wind
     Beware

You were one of those boys
Who I'd known since I was 4,
And who got confirmed in the
Christian faith
Six weeks ago.

One of those boys
Who joked around in class
In a way that made the tescher smile.

One of those boys
Who I was happy to have in my squad
For gym
Because I knew we would win
Team Handball.

He was a guy
Who was completely comfortable
If I referanced second grade,
Even if my memory
Embarrassed him.

Someone who was so happy
To go to highschool
And be on the football team,
And who had already made friends
With all the players.

And he was one of those boys
Who we all knew
Would be the one to score the winning goal.

I thought that he would always be there.
Because boys like Bennett Rill are rare.

It's time I write a morbid verse
Of a necrophiliac's scent
A love sonnet in a dark hearse
The way sick, evil love is meant

It's sure something to remember
The cold night shaped the mood sedate
'twas an eve of dark December
Beauty lured me to procreate

Though cold and stiff, love's not inept
Melody's morose symphony
I do believe with joy she wept
Dead, she deserves no sympathy

I want to throw off
the cloak of “trying to impress you.”
it’s gotten so
heavy
soaked with my insecurities
and self-loathing,
always snagging
on thorns and skeletons and the
remnants of broken hearts.
I want to shatter
the bottle that held my tears
shed over not being good enough.
Pour my philophobia
into a sea that never dries up.
It’s all salt water anyways.
I want to compose
a cacophony of all the voices that sung
“you’re fake” -- “ugly” -- “worthless” --“unloved” --
into my ears
and then burn the sheet music.
Destruction…
never felt so good.