with my depression

(circa fall 2001)

in an empty room
surrounded only by isolation
the beating of a heart
keeps time for desolation
pretending to be strong
but drowning in emotion
a desire to be held
and a need to feel devotion
obsession feeds the soil
for a garden of confusion
the idea that you would save me from me
was clearly an illusion
in an effort to escape
from hopeless desperation
I let myself believe your feelings
were more than my creation
I was wrong and now alone
held captive by an overhealthy imagination