#meloncholy
Sadness is just a feeling
Where melancholy is a your breath
Where as empty is an absence
Hollow is a dark and scorching abyss
Where gratitude is a fleeting fervent choice
Anguish is an all consuming hungry beating heart
And sorrow
Sorrow is not the right word
Sorrow is a sparrow dipping and diving thriving in the wind
Controlled by the breeze
And tossed aside by the storm
And mourning is a homophone for morning
Which makes sense because the morning after mourning
You miss being able to feel
Anything at all
Sadness is a feeling
Melancholy is your breath catching for the first and last time
Dec 9, 2025
Dec 9, 2025 at 5:28 PM UTC
Thank the God I don't believe in
Thank the ones I do
Thank the mistakes I've made
And how they beat me blue
Jun 19, 2025
Jun 19, 2025 at 7:45 PM UTC
I have flown here
to whisper sweet words
from beyond
the silent voice
blinded by love
and the fluttering of wings
her voice soft and sweet
reciting prose and verse
from old stories of lore
veiled in this mist of heartbreak
no longer yearning for the light
the bells toll, loud and deep into the night
years before, bone and blood
waiting for the false promises of spring
now the seasons just sad recollections
time to leave
fly back among the stars
and fade away
Apr 2, 2025
Apr 2, 2025 at 5:43 PM UTC
The sun’s brightness urged me to move on,
But the darkness of clouds whispered, "Stay."
Even when the brightness was stronger,
I was standing alone in the "gray."
Mar 27, 2025
Mar 27, 2025 at 1:07 AM UTC
Pelted by winds grace,
shifted by the melody,
I'm meloncholy
Hoisted up in the air,
this feeling to hang,
there is where I lay
Someplace far,
someplace unseen,
maybe that'll feel alright
Bit by bit,
piece by piece,
to be put together
just to fall apart
Placed in hand,
this rhythm keeps me sane,
am I to blame?
Split down the middle,
ripped apart in the end,
stitched together my madness
Complacent,
yet unstable,
I'll wear the mask that follows
Nov 19, 2023
Nov 19, 2023 at 4:56 PM UTC
Pyretic thoughts
cauchemars
sculptures fragmented
unfinished paintings
empty museums
bottle of hope
first snow
last death
black night white day
eclipsed
by hollow visions
nothing else matters
horses graze
unaware
flakes fall
life hindered
I stow away
in my hideout
brushes and words
blankets and swords
all my secrets
covered in snow
Nov 17, 2019
Nov 17, 2019 at 1:15 AM UTC
Train tracks
long abandoned
birds chirp
history recants
old stories
hidden in meadows
facades rain washed
I hear only my shadow
hugging me
lurking in the dusk
a ghost
with gleaming sword
I tremble in the cold
he, who does not exist
wants me
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 1:37 AM UTC
He woke up in a rapid sweat, darkness surrounding him, his soaked pillow was pressing up on his neck as he could feel the uncomfortable stabbing cold run right threw his whole body. His mouth was dry and his body was in great pain. He lay there practically naked, but not just physically, also emotionally. It was like a catatonic state where the person’s body is paused in reality, but the actual person is far away and isolated even from himself. He wondered why he was so comfortable being uncomfortable and remaining frozen in time. He saw nothing but the subtle moonlight that peaked through the blinds of his window. A point of existence, he feels nothing because all he has ever felt has drowned him. His numbness was being accepted and he embraced that if he remained this way, he would never have to feel hurt or heartbreak again. It’s better this way, he confirmed.
Eventually he got up out of his bed, walked outside to a nearby empty field. He looked up at the infinite night sky and contemplated the moon, the stars, and the endless space that sustained all of its existence. A tear fell down his cheek as he remembered the beautiful wonder of life and the universe; his realization that he is just a small spec of dust compared to all that is and all that is wonderful. Whatever happened to that universal happiness he used to feel? The feelings of the unseen, the cosmos, the mysteries that remain unsolved were all love. He then felt ancient and brand new at the same time-always being around all that is, but recently born into the unknown. The silence of the night swarmed him, and he suddenly embraced all the things he could not accept. The lullaby of the wind put him to sleep.
When he awoke, it was twilight. The sky was a lighter, deep blue and the sun in the far distance was rising in a fiery halo of mixed red, orange, and yellow colors, and the early morning clouds were clear and transparent. He heard the sound of a train horn in the far distance. He followed the sound with his ears as the sound became slightly louder and louder. Then, suddenly he could see the light of the early morning train.
The train had stopped as he approached it, and he hopped on with no hesitation or looking back. This runaway train was going to take him to where he needs to be, and he blindly and faithfully accepted that his fate was out of his hands now. No more heartbreak, no more reminders of the past, and most importantly no more drowning in his tears. As the train proceeded to move forward, he could feel fresh air gently touch his face, and all that he saw and ever knew were now flashing lights disappearing into eternity.
It was hours into the late morning when the train made its first stop. He listened to the train conductor speak out over the intercom, almost incoherently, say, “This is Brightstone Park. Next stop will be Riverhead.” A nostalgic feeling suddenly came over him as he could remember that his very first kiss was in Brightstone Park with Jessica Garzi. That was not his first true love, but his very first heartbreak. Riverhead was a forbidden memory, as he knew a classmate who had committed suicide off the Riverhead Bridge. He had not returned there in five years because of his haunting memories that would always come back to remind him just how cold and frightening the world really is.
While lost in thought, he felt a rough, sand paper-like wet feeling on his forearm. He looked down and it was a black cat, but not all black. The paws were all white like socks, and the chest and stomach were snow white. The loud prominent purr was a very peculiar reminder of a cat he once owned. Her name was Midnight. She was not the friendliest cat to strangers, but she loved him, especially when he massaged her paws. This cat was practically identical to Midnight. Midnight was put down three years ago though. As he began petting the cat’s back, it ran away and jumped off the moving train. He looked out in a hurry, but it was gone. It was just like everything else he loved. There for one moment, then gone the next. The strange thought that has one wondering if anything had actually existed that is now no more. A person, or a thing, could mean everything to you, but once they slip away, they become like the wind: occasionally brushing up against you, but never revealing its form.
On the train he began to wonder how he got where he was, and in general how the smallest decisions he made lead to bigger events and all in all, everything was all connected. There are no isolated events, or isolated people- it is all proven fact and science. Everything depends on each other to survive. The trees depend on the sun to keep themselves alive; we give off carbon dioxide to the trees and in return, we receive the oxygen we need from the leaves of the trees. He thought about the potential of a seed-for example, a tomato seed. Within that tiny seed is unlimited potential of life: The seed may produce one plant of several tomatoes, and within all those tomatoes are countless other seeds. This is all from one seed. Then, one may take a couple of seeds from a picked tomato and plant them throughout the yard creating a garden. That original seed came from another tomato seed inside a tomato on a plant, and that seed came from another seed. When did this cycle of reproduction begin and when does it end? Is it just another form of the infinite? When a person eats a tomato from that original seed, he receives certain essential vitamins his body needs for surviving and sustaining good health. This good health will effect his offspring and so on and so on. When he defecates, that will all return to the earth for potential fertilizer used for other tomato seeds. This is the same when he returns to the earth again. His dust will fertilize the same world that he came from, for all things come from it just to inevitably return to it.
He continued to think about how matter is never created nor destroyed and the same for energy. Nothing ever truly dies; the form changes into something new, like how water becomes a cloud and the cloud becomes water. Though this comforted him, he noticed that a few feet away from him was a former coworker and friend, Natasha Karev. She always infatuated him and they became close friends, but he always wished it had continued and gone even further than it did. One night, only a couple of years ago, they were at a friend’s party. Both were drinking, but not so heavily. That night they bonded and got so close, that she admitted she loved him. He was never quite sure how real that “I love you” was, but it was burned inside his heart ever since. That night there were moments she would tell him how much she wanted to make love to another guy at the party, Kevin, but was afraid to approach him. She told him she desperately wanted to lose her virginity that night to somebody because she was eighteen and only getting older. This was like a sharp knife slowly penetrating into his heart. He remained speechless for quite a few minutes. Finally he decided to go up in a bedroom alone. To his surprise, she followed him up and kissed him. He felt her clothed body up and down, and she touched areas not many have touched before. She told him she wanted to have *** and that she wanted him to rob her of her virginity. He was speechless, but extremely excited. Then, abruptly, she told him she could not because everything was happening way too soon. Why couldn’t she just make up her mind? He sat frustrated in the darkness, again, all alone. After that night, they spoke and remained close, yet that night was never mentioned again. It was as if it had never happened. After about two years of an on and off friendship, they just went their own ways. There were no fights or disagreements. Life just separated them.
“You’re just a figment inside somebody’s dream. So far from reality, you are a dream within a dream within a dream.” Startled by this soft voice, he quickly turned around to see Natasha smiling at him. “Ha-ha! I knew I could scare you. Were you abused as a kid, or something?” No words could come out at that moment, but he hugged her tightly. She explained to him that she is getting off at the next stop to meet a friend. He was sure he wanted to follow her and see where life would take him. She reminisced and told him how she had been away inside her own cave for several months, but is now very happy to meet up with everyone she had lost contact with.
The next stop arrived, but he did not catch the name of the stop he was getting off. As he got off with several others, both he and Natasha met up with her friend, Valeria, who he found quite cute. She resembled Natasha a bit in that they both had ***** blonde hair and blue eyes. They walked right into a giant street fair with a crowd of people looking at the foods and desserts, the trendy clothes, cheap jewelry, and children play rides.
As he looked around, he began seeing many familiar faces. He saw Kevin, a childhood and grammar school mate there with another co-worker of his, Jenny. Jenny was a Colombian beauty in his eyes and who was a flirt and tease to him, but never actually gave him any time alone. Incidentally, he knew both of them at different times in his life and had no idea they knew of each other. Kevin stopped contacting him during high school without any arguments or disloyalties that would tear a friendship apart. Keeping his head down, he walked a few feet to discover another childhood best friend, Jack, who was with a mutual childhood friend, Melanie. Melanie was a best friend of his and also a first childhood crush who also had a crush on him. He thought it was odd because even though Melanie and Jack were also best friends, Melanie never liked Jack in a special boy/girl way. He felt a moment of heartbreak, but quickly turned away and kept walking. A little further up the road, he saw two more childhood friends, Chris and Jimmy, who as children did not get along that well and only hung out with each other in the company of him. How peculiar it was suddenly seeing them together after ten years, and as seemingly best of friends.
That was not all. Things were getting stranger and stranger. It was like all the people who had made an imprint on his life were now coming together around him. He saw his two therapists, one he had gone to as a teenager and the other as a young adult, stand next to each other selling prescription drug samples. Both stared at him with a blank face, but with a prominent smile. He could barely nod at them. Natasha directed them to a local bar. Inside the bar was huge and also had a second floor. He noticed the music playing in the background was, Nocturne In E Flat Major, Op.9 No.2, by Polish born Romantic composer, Frederic Chopin. He became fixated on the elegant eighth note, left hand arpeggios, and the sweet and peaceful fast moving seven, eleven, twenty, and twenty-two notes from the right hand. If he thought about the most beautiful song ever written and all that is wonderful in one, this was the song.
They all took a seat and began looking at people and laughing at their behavior. Everyone was wearing masks. Social masks. They observed how different people act when they are in social gatherings, and how if you carefully study their body language, it will become clear that what they are saying and trying to put out is not what is actually being expressed through the body. One young man was frantically shaking his right leg as he tried to flirt confidently with a young woman he had just recently met. His face began to turn noticeably red, in an embarrassed flush, and he was making sudden hand gestures and quick eye blinking. She, on the other hand, pretended to be interested in what he was saying; yet her eyes would often look around the room and her body was a good distance from him with her arms folded.
Then as they were all laughing, he abruptly stopped and looked ahead to see two drunken women making out two tables away from them. As his eyes focused in on them, he realized they were two of his former crushes, Claire and Veronica, who he had no idea knew of each other because in fact, they were from different time periods of his life. He began seeing former teachers and professors from each stage of his school career, laughing hysterically with one another. Some of his most inspiring teachers and professors were gathered with other teachers and professors he despised. A young, tattooed hipster woman entered the scenery with a little Cairn Terrier that had an uncanny resemblance to his recently passed dog, Petey, who was put to sleep when he was away on a vacation, unexpectedly. His sorrow began to overwhelm him for not being able to say good-bye and see him for a proper last time. Everything about the dog’s high energy, playfulness, and watchdog attitude was exactly like Petey. A tear ran and fell off his cheek from his left eye right into the hand of Natasha. He looked up at her and she said, “Your tears are my tears. For what pain you withhold, I take and share with you.” She then wiped her right eye with the hand that held his tear. Natasha’s friend began to speak slowly into his left ear in Russian. Though he could not understand a word she was saying, it sounded just like a poem based on the pattern and rhythm’s consistency. It made him feel free of melancholy, but then thought of Angela Antonaci entered his mind.
He thought that the last painful experience ended with the break up of his closest best friend ever to play a part in his life. She was his girlfriend for the last three and a half years. They had known each other for ten years before they broke up their entire relationship. She was thirteen and he was fifteen when they first met in a park. She was always all over him like a little schoolgirl and he would often get frustrated with her obsession over him, for he believed he was no big deal. She was the first person to ever make him feel special and important, and even though he would resent her likeness towards him, he could never keep his eyes off of her or stop himself from always coming to her when he felt lonely. After about seven years, he realized he was in love with her. He had always been in love with her from the first time they met eyes. His long road had always lead back to her home in life. Every time he tried forgetting her and moving on, they would meet again. That person people search their entire lives for, he had found.
He rose out of his seat and briefly said goodbye to Natasha and her friend and went upstairs. He wanted time to be alone and walk around until he suddenly saw Jessica walking towards him. He stopped and waited for her to say hello, but she walked right by him, as if he had never existed. He felt a little insulted, yet relieved as any awkwardness that would arise was avoided. Looking ahead, he saw Angela’s two best friends, Kate and Julie, with her high school crush, John. John was playing an acoustic guitar on a lounge chair, singing to the two friends, almost enticing them with his eyes and voice. His jealousy overcame him, as Angela had been infatuated with him on and off even though he had played with her feelings throughout high school and college. John would tell her he loved her and make her believe he was a romantic, then when she fell into his words, he would leave her and keep a distance for long periods of time, leaving her in despair.
The conclusion occurred to him that maybe she was nearby. He searched throughout the entire bar not finding any other clues that she was around. When he went downstairs, he saw Natasha and her friend asleep, as well as most of the bar, except for the bartender. It was like everyone just passed out from the alcohol or possibly inhaled some type of knockout drug. The bartender was watching the news forecast of a tornado watch and dangerous thunderstorms. The bartender looked at him and said, “It’s better if you stay in here. It’s dangerous out there. I recommend you don’t go out!” He just listened, but decided to leave to the outside anyway.
He walked three blocks through the heavy rain and strong winds. He took a moment to stop and look at the black and gray clouds above him. As he looked across the street, he saw her. She was with her mother, sister, and mutual friends of theirs, Chrystal and Mike. He also saw behind them, his own mother and sister. He ran across the street to her and she shockingly with excitement screamed, “Hey!!! Oh my God!! Please stay with us. I missed you so much. You have no idea. We have to get to a shelter away from this storm. Hold my hand…” Smiling, he kept walking with them. They walked for twenty minutes and entered a giant field. After ten minutes of walking restlessly through the field, they all stopped to catch their breath. Angela’s mom ordered everyone to hold one another’s hand. An enormous gust of wind pushed them all to the grassy ground. He began to shake violently as he felt the touch of death nearby. He wondered if this would be the end, as he felt unaccomplished and left with so much left unsaid to her. Thoughts raced through his mind like a speeding highway about how to get to safety. Unable to control and remain focused on one rational thought at a time, he blacked out for a minute.
Then there he was right in the middle of a storm. In so many ways, he realized where he was ending was where he originally began. All the imprints from all he ever knew came back all at once to watch him finally leave all he ever knew from this life. And in the last moments, he found himself with her. He held her hand, while she held his, and the hands of their family and friends. The world was so dark and cold. The wind became much more rapid and an enormous bright light from it came within just miles of them. He kept looking up at the dark black and gray clouds over them, never as frightened as he was now. His focus was on the great strength of the wind. Whatever melancholic thoughts he had of his life, he would not give up hope. Maybe he was just hopelessly hopeful, but holding each other tightly might, in some miraculous way, save them. Then suddenly a deep peace began to sustain his very being. He remembered whose hand he was holding- the only woman to ever understand every level of his being. He looked down at her big, precious eyes pouring out tears. Their eyes locked, as she had been watching him the entire time. No words needed to be said from one another. They knew exactly what they felt and meant. For the first time in his life, everything was all okay. All was beautiful. The whole situation was beautiful, not tragic. In that moment, he understood this was where he was meant to be. This was where he wanted to be, for only in such a life altering moment does one comprehend the very nature of love and life. To just glance into her eyes and see the same person staring back in suspense, while all he ever knew was being born, growing, and dying simultaneously in complete acceptance. They began to fade and disappeared into the light.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 10:25 PM UTC
Eulogy to Relationships:
Worshipped at the altar
In this
Private temple of sadness
Is a pocket full of sorry
And rainchecks, so grab
The raincoat, and try
To keep dry
In the metallic storm
And stardust of memory;
Stellar winds blow
And eons pass,
I am somewhere there. Particles
so ancient, I am made in the siblings of meloncholia and moons,
And our sun--Assembled into something human,
Something capable of
LOVE
Yet we still keep medusa on the mantle.
Yet we still scavange through the pasts' bones.
Erecting our great mausoleums to the slain tigers
And our own
beast of burden,
And what good is writing poetry in it all
If it
At the very least
Didnt feel good
To elevate the benign and still neglected moments
To a status
Of art.
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 6:03 PM UTC
Anguish is me. Suffering is my blood. Pain is my heart. Despair is my brain. Numb is my touch. Gone is my soul. All I see is meaningless. All I know is nothing. My thoughts are like clouds showering acid, filling the growing rivers of depression. Sprouting more and more trees of anxiety. Sending bile snowballs cascading down mountains of doubt. Confusion festering, enough to black out the sun of belief. Traumatic obsession blinding my reason. Uncertainty fueling my unrealistically present pulse. The Reaper is hiding just out sight. A carrior-eater perched upon my brow. Grief and misery controlling my destiny. No distraction will conquor this day. Nor the days to come. I will function - but only enough to exist. My purpose is naught. My intentions selfish. Empathy was not made for me. I am in a world with no one else, yet they can see me. This world is quiet. This world is somber and yet more inviting. I've shattered the looking glass.
So don't come looking.
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 1:26 PM UTC
one time, i saw it.
in the window,
a father--the wife,
a couple of kids,
alcoholism
a loveless marriage
a little girl--
right before it turned black,
a thick, sludging like ***** oil
from an engine
shifting over,
black. i didn't
see a childhood,
i saw
abyss.
that's the
only time
she ever spoke
about it
to me. her
darkness, i understood
then, why she would run
from shades of grey,
and lived
with that fake light
in her, the one that
will laugh
at anything
you say
the one that
agrees with everyone
the one that
is loud about having fun
when no one is.
i wish i were king midas.
id turn the moon gold--and make you a pseudo-sun
in the dark, in the night,
to sheen endless reflections
of the real one
so that you are always in light.
if i were king midas
id touch everything
inside of there,
and you'd never know
the night
ever
again.
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 8:56 PM UTC
I feel upside-down
This building
These people
Keep me right side up
But its not my anchor
I need to make it
My mind is
My heart will be
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 7:17 PM UTC
What remains of you now is just a ghost
Love lies in a dormant state
Time robber, you fill my heart the most
For the time since you left, your presence lingers
You are cold and pale,
And your ashes of hair slips right through my fingers
Once a river full of love, dried sorrow now just an endless drought
But what once was, and your picture in my head
Your body, your soul, drools straight through and from my mouth
The scent still enticing and alive
Your eyes seep threw me dead still with a shine
You're close, yet far away in your shell comfortably blind
Sweet amore, how I could hold you and once again you'd be mine
Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 2:18 AM UTC
Doors, windows, all nailed shut
An overgrown lawn that hasn't been cut
In over a year, or maybe two
That's how long its been
Since I last saw you.
I walk on your porch
Cautious that the floorboards don't creak
Remembering you makes my heart weak
Because the time away from you
Has added years to my heart
And I really don't think that we can be apart
So I gather my strength, my hands start to shake
My fists squeezed so hard that my fingernails break
I clench down my teeth, my confidence is high
The more I wait, the more this plan goes awry
One more glance at my feet, and to myself I agree
I know once I knock my past is behind me
I raise my arm and knock on the frame
And realize that there was nothing to gain
For when opening the door, it seems it was never blocked
The door, this whole time, has been unlocked.
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 4:03 AM UTC
I am
a massive wave of contradictions.
I am
too complex for myself.
I am
a lost soul,
searching for an anchor.
I am
the epitome of meloncholy.
I am
a mere flicker
in a world of glowing stars.
I am
me.
Whether I like it,
or not.
(d.d.b)
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC
I was lost in the grief
to be struck by the unforgiving belief,
i mask my melancholy in all things bogus
while trying to remain in focus,
the danger of my soul is near
i must not give in to the fear,
it will only linger,
now promises lay hindered
shaping an unwanted denial.
wish the pain would just let me go
the sadness just keeps trying to grow
forsaken to live a path,
one where i'm so lonely.
How does it feel to be far from comfort
endurance falling short so am i done for,
i migrate somewhere to sit and think,
all thats confusing twirls me as i sink
deeper into more sorrow,
will i still be bleeding tomorrow.
I wish the pain would just let me go
the sadness just keeps trying to grow
forsaken to live a path,
one where i'm living so lonely!
The journey is solitarious....
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 7:27 PM UTC
Sounds glide,
graze against your lips,
and in the tides of words get washed.
Words that are honest, but
too ****
BIG
for the
time we have left,
so
SPIT.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 5:59 PM UTC
Lord, I sure got the blues this morning.
Woke up with nothing beside me, but a pillow and a stain.
The gray clouds crowded around me,
And that drizzle became a pouring rain.
I feel so melancholy -
when I hear your name.
The sibilance of those syllables,
Triggers a recall, Pavlovian pain.
Music's like a wicked woman!
Fickle and sour as a pickle she can be.
Before you go dancing with that damsel,
You better check out the scars on me.
There's a reason or three,
they call me, call me, call me....
Mr. Meloncholy.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 3:43 AM UTC