winter

 
 
 
Yeah, I wanted to tell you; 
but there just wasn’t time to listen
And the snowlined streets 
    called you away from my door
And I just couldn’t scream out 
over your brilliant white plans and schemes 
that I needed you to hear me.
Besides, what was I going to say?
That life was becoming too much with me?
That people were becoming 
    both too dull and demanding
That drugs no longer filtered the pain & 
all my dreams had turned to nightmares?
You had no need to hear it.
And what was the point of burdening you 
with my melancholy love
    (tho my spirit keeps promising me that love 
    and only love can kill the melancholia 
    and reawaken me    to joy.)
So what could I say?
That winter has frozen my tears inside my mind and 
only thoughts of death still bring me solace
    and the night seems too cruel and empty,
but the too brite days are worse and I love you?
You are right not to listen.
I am right to disappear into the darkness —
    leaving to make my peace alone in a cold 
    and lifeless cell —
    escaping memory.
And the tears inside my skull 
speak of belief that has died
    and wonder overcome by a desperate apathy
    and that place deep within my heart that love
    alone can reach — release
That secret life-affirming catalyst which remains 
    solidly locked away —
I cannot ask you for the key.
.
.
.
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