The River Ouse Aghast

down past the cold undercurrents of Virginia's Woolf, and Sylvia's wrath searching through their darkest hearts too many writers take another path from fulfillment, and in their cups awash with sullen antidepressants pondering if they'll get enough of life to even get past the present burrowing and borrowing monofilaments temptingly entice, dangling and dancing just below the smooth-surfaced water flashing jiggs luring joys enhancing errant molucules are a hapless find when there's no bonding in our life and easy outs seem a preferable mind than living lost in depressive strife still, there's a tenuous line to living and struggle is the never ending rule depression fills the soul with misgiving to feed life's fires with suicidal fuel yet, who am i to say that they're wrong, to not be bright with fulfilling spirit pocketed with weighty depressive stones a merciful end may have it's merits but i'll not write in acquiescence of preferring ending of days prematurely my preference would tend to senescence my life I think, is too precious, surely © Goode Guy 2012-01-03 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Virginia_Woolf http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sylvia_Plath http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Depression_(mood) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:Writers_who_committed_suicide http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:Poets_who_committed_suicide http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/senescence