September 28, 2011 § 3 Comments

Clear blue skies
and sunny days have
no meaning. When desire
and shadows of ‘success’
billow and writhe you
like serpents around
your neck.

Surely some tenderness
waits in the fingers that
touch mine, assuring that
things happen for ‘good’.
Hollow assurances that
but, give a false sense
of security.

Churned mind, nuzzling
whatever appears to be comforting.
Even if temporarily. Loss
of dimension and sanity,
bruised ego, and a broken
I have done little but
bleed since the wound
of this place opened up.

Whose hand casts the
spell that diminishes pain?


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§ 3 Responses to Melancholy.

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