the familiar
confines of home
feel more
confining tonight
as i vibrate at
the speed of
crushing despair
in mania minor
the sky is
overcast with no
north star to
guide me from
the precipice of
emotionaldissonance
as my thoughts
reverberate in
rancorousrancidity
the no vacancy sign
sputters eerily as
i hastily hammer
plywood over windows
sensing the storm
and wanting nothing
the last thing
anyone needs
as the world burns
is another
melancholicpoet
yet here i sit
inasepiatintedhell
of my own devising
morethantobeleftalone
Melancholic poets are always relevant. In fact what’s a poet if not melancholic. :))
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