I wouldn't have minded if you were here,
drowning my passions in a lake of fear,
upon which the swans calmly swim.
Would have taken your hand and would have walked you
through
the thick woods of my visions; the grey and the blue;
and the high-lands, though distanced and dim.

The free birds have left my abstinent mind
where a flock of green demons have joyfully dined
on the ruins generous souls.
It's a thick quilt of sanity that covers us both
we are cough by its weight and we can not let off
though the joy is what glimpse through its holes.