The sun raced the other way
as you chased us
through our tiny green pastures
to spare us from
the hand of that bottle.

I never asked why we stopped running,
returned to keep those pastures;
why we plowed those fields with our souls
so we could plant new seedlings each season
to watch them wither and die because the bottle
wouldn’t share the rain.

I didn’t ask why your hands never sat on my head
like a stocking cap protecting my ears
from the blizzards wintered from that bottle.

You say your there for me
but when I really open up to you , you just don't want to see
you act like you care
but when I have these thoughts and break downs I ring and your never there

you don't know what It's like, to want to die
take the rope, fuck life and hold on tight
when I tell you I want to die, it's no word of a lie
its all building up, I'm weak, I just want to surrender the fight

mother i am deeply depressed
panels of the old liver automation
disquited with ascending from gloom
to easen the path of the hearse

the briars of solitude recedes the night
the great discharges in the tomb therein be
mural Cynthia and her heavenly accomplices
sponge with gall of their luminescence

each night in apocryphal solecisms
ill omens the monument in the towers cruet
throttles to raze the scarlet pimpernel
and window tresses dream the ghastly entourage

.
All gather 'round, I have a tale
(you may, 'though, find it hard to trust)
the sort to make the strongest pale.
I swear, declare it happened thus.
You'll think I need a therapist,
and 'though so many won't believe
and call it simply bovine dust,
I don't set out to try deceive.