melancholia

the history of melancholia
includes all of us.

me, I writhe in dirty sheets
while staring at blue walls
and nothing.

I have gotten so used to melancholia
that
I greet it like an old
friend.

I will now do 15 minutes of grieving
for the lost redhead,
I tell the gods.

I do it and feel quite bad
quite sad,
that I rise
CLEANSED
even though nothing is
solved.

that's what I get for kicking
religion in the ass.

I should have kicked the redhead
in the ass
where her brains and her bread and
butter are
at...

but, no, I've felt sad
about everything:

the lost redhead was just another
smash in a lifelong
loss...

I listen to drums on the radio now
and grin

there is something wrong with me
besides
melancholia.


kind of drunk right now which i suppose is kind og appropriate. borrowed love is a dog from hell from rich or marshall or somethin, and it's alllllright. i like this one poem thoguh, melancholia. it is now 5:05pm.