Melancholy comes and goes in waves. Between one blink and the next, Iam something bitter and small and shriveled.
The build-up is eventual. Millions of tiny things coming together,accumulating, gathering, waiting. An insidious shadow of bad things, ofsad things, of brutal things. People seem so foreign, so far away.
Tantalus's fruit. Prometheus' chains. Sisyphus' boulder. My heart is sore,
and my hands ache. Stretching my fingers till they crack and break andwither. An impossible sea voyage lies in between, I feel. I will never crossthe distance, I feel.
I feel, I feel, and I feel. I feel so many things that they all blur togetherand feel like nothing at all.
Melancholy comes and goes in waves. I wish Iwere a mermaid on some days, others a seashell. I think what I reallywant is to be washed away. To the bottom of the ocean, amongst theshipwrecks, the remnants of what once was, and the porous skeletonsand the immortal jellyfish.
I think what I really want is to be far, far away from life.
