When Depression Peaks

I love the reality the dark keeps, without designer drugs or alcohol. It is as deep as the void from which light has sprung. To speak of mighty waves the sea released. To follow boldly solstice no drawn drapes up from. The triggers I can't fix to see my face. Drawn and racked as peasants do it. I face the west the ocean calls she sits upon it. The drug is sleep I'm welcome to be found inside American tragedies. The farmer milks his cows and his wife and all ends well. Each angle that is found in your well turned ankle. The dress that hides the moon each shooting star. When depression peaks, because I love the way you always smile.