Ode to Melancholy

Posted: February 25, 2014 in poetry
Tags: , , , , ,

Depression
An evil time: everything seems shades of grey, the murdering night bears down upon me.
Is there anything more ordinary, ordinary to the extent of pain, than this moment?
It’s pretty bloody average,
Like fingernails on a blackboard.
The dogs howl for me in the streets for I hide under a mighty sorrow,
The muscles in my back twist with my yoke,
Yet I must drag it on forever beside the winding Lethe,
And shriek at the decaying bones on display around me.
The blackest of nights with no whisper of dawn,
Not a glimmer of hope lights my way.
The cruellest of moments is empty and cold,
And antidepressants cannot fathom this blackness;
No Prozac panacea for the man in the moment.
Every dream ends in an embarrassing failure,
And loneliness lurks waiting to pounce in the blackness.
Why do I have to be this way?
Worms eat my wooden tongue and tumble over into any possibility of tomorrow,
They suck puss through viaducts of longing as they eat their fill.
Each breath is cloying and wasted,
Every exhale is into a vacuum and to no effect.
Cold metal stone permeates every conversation:
No empathy, when all that is needed is empathy.
And even if they would listen,
No-one understands .
Withering poison wind knocks down every impulse to praise or laugh.
The end will come with barely a whisper.
The end will come with vodka and Mogadon.

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