Posts Tagged ‘sadness’


Mark my cryptic madness

Love my hopelessness

Talley up my magnificent frenzy

Break my infinite sadness


How can you look at me

With your rebellious technology

How will you romance me

With your primitive ancestry


How can you look like me

Why do you try to resemble

My insignificant shadows

And my primitive ancestry


Now do you see me

Pelican moroseness

Crow feather pain

Under mistletoe



Looking at some slightly risqué pictures of Lana Del Rey while listening to her wonderfully melancholy music
I am overwhelmed with sadness old as time
So far away
The ultimate unobtainable woman
Projecting sophisticated sensuality
Oozing essence of fuck
And the most depressing truth of all
Is that it seems that all women are as unobtainable as Lana Del Rey to me


Ode to Melancholy

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

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.