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the Eyes are the window to the Soul
really?
a tinted window, perhaps
or one with the shutters Tightly drawn
a shattered window
a window into an Empty room
or one so cluttered there is no where to Begin

maybe the window tells us more than what is Inside
At dusk I hang up
a worn blue work
shirt that smells
strongly of love
of dirt of the earth
melancholy, sweat
yesterday's brews
the blues, regret
twenty cigarettes
black breath
of the bone moth
old blood, moon dust
spring pollen, summer
grass, Autumnal ****
winter's cold blast
sea salt and pine needles
mountain laurel, desert air
my dog's hair, I swear
I can't bear the thought
of washing or throwing away
all the stains, the growing pains
the laughter, the sorrows
these history lessons I need
to get me through tomorrow.
Do not dream too loudly
You may awaken your conscience

                                        By Phil Roberts
Dear depression
I'm writing to let you know
That I don't have anything else to give
You took away all my hope

What more do you want of me
The few breaths that I take?
They're not even for me I swear
I just don't want them to break
The ones who still care about me
Somehow you weren't able to push them away
I guess they're stronger than I'll ever be
But I don't want you to make them ache

Hurt me bruise me take my soul
But let my body here
For them , not me , I'm miserable at my best
But I can't let them live in fear

Dear depression
Please subside
We can live together
Just don't make me die

— The End —