Who alone are quite at ease
Company are sure to please,
Those unhappy on their own
Perhaps are better off alone.

You can beat us to the ground, hurt us.
Ignore our screams.
Pretened that we are fine.
Because kids can't be depressed.
You can tell us how to live and feel.
Tell us our demons are not real.
But we are just other human beings.
Looking for their own indentity.
Going trough darker times.
Just younger but not untouched by pain.
Just because we are younger doesn't mean we can't be hurt.
So yes you can be ignorant.
You can tell us that we lie.
But that won't help us.
Won't change a thing.
We are the depressed teenagers.
And we can't do anything about it.
So please stop reminding us that we should be happy.
That our teens are the best times of our lifes.
Cause if depression is the best we will get,
how much must aldult life **** then?

Although they are
only breath, words
which I command
are immortal

don't force the words on paper
like a tube of oily ink
it will splatter on your hands
make your ego start to shrink
it's OK to wait til later
when the feeling's turning pink
and the slanting green upon the lands
greets raptors slyly with a wink

don't slap a poem on a page
in the haste of no job jitters
you'll only feed a hungry rage
and feel your talent's shivers

unless . . .

the desire to accomplish
burns gallons of the best
and you've shook your soul wide open
put your biceps to the test

your mind has not been empty
but gathered up and stored
every little bit of lyrics filmy
not so unlike a dragon hoard

the words art each embroidered
and silvery trappings fastened on
with diamonds, blood, and feathers
a new masterpiece spins on

My wrist is laid
down
alone
upon a table
large well formed feet
visible beneath the glass sheet
that's chilling to the skin
blood recedes from distant hand
until it gathers in a puddle
between the ulna and radius
a bruise of vague percussions
spreading up my little metacarpal
as it smashes vainly upon resistant stable
trying to steady the dancing toes beneath
a barrier so clear
the dust from last week's walk from work
are seen around a sole
that won't decide
where it wants to go
or if going can be defined
while blurred blue engulfs the cloudy witness
to my pointless movements
ontop
beneath
behind
the glass table

It's easier it seems
To put on a mask
And hide my silent screams
Only a few have seen me without my mask
And eventually they stopped and asked,
Would you tell me your story?
It is easier in this place
Where no one knows of my face
Distorted throughout years of pain
This mask covers my past
I don't remember when I took it off last.
But here,
No one knows this is a mask
They think they see me.

hit    
me hard
cos I wanna see stars  
the work of Your hands turns into light upon my face
and in my eyes  I see Your nebulae like the red      
afterbirth of love          the glittery remains 
of                   Your glorious fireworks
as You blow up tight brown boxes   
found stashed inside my mind
and ignite the tinder 
your breath dried inside me
   released from suffocation into
      sudden oxygen from Your chest
                 all the black lies shoot bright
                     across the sky as You shimmer 
                                          your truth down into
                                                                   my world