Please just give me a shovel

Don't give me gardening tools
to help me out of this hole
Don't let me drown in the pools
that I finally stopped weeping

Don't read my grief lightly
for it's as deep as my hole
Don't grab my heart too tightly
There is not much left of it

For I now don't want to dream
for fear of my subconscious
They allow my ghosts to scream
even louder then at Berkeley Square

Don't look at what is inside
of this hopeful pessimistic being
For it is in there to hide
to come out when it's ready