I am not guilty,
Nor created to be guilty;
Although I am human
You make me wilt.
I do not understand what it is
Keeping me up at night.
Is it the noise of your passing?
Wyrd forged me iron-sinewed,
Worthless, hard, and proud.
Regret nothing - in quick time it passes,
And you cannot shame me
With the guilt you wish I felt.
Why should we allow for chronic victims?
Your tears are warped power,
Merciless and violent in their falling.
Therefore, guilty or not,
I must consider myself absolved.
Meets yours on the cigarette byways
Floats from the mike in airwaves
Croons deep velvet in your ear
Swirls down the brooding glass
Try to find mine across the room
Move on, babe, move on
A dame like that
Black-and-white grain and flicker
Dream on, dreamer, dream on
They don’t make ‘em like this anymore
I imagine this as a slow jazz song crooned by a chain-smoking flapper in a speakeasy. No, just me? Alright, well... guess I'm a sucker for a smooth voice. ;)
The wolf in my shadow
Is named Melancholy
His tail hangs low
And his jaws hang wide
He weight lies on me
Until I can’t breathe
His fur has no warmth
And his eyes are mine
Anthropomorphic visualization of depression, written a few years ago.