Melancholia.

Limbs of lead

Head of stone

But a heart that’s
Made of glass.
When it pulls you under
You can’t breathe
Colours spin, the world
Tilts
And nothing makes sense.
Up is down and down
Is the darkness that pulls you
In its embrace
Tight enough that it bleeds
But not far enough for you
To lose yourself
In its ecstasy.



Something about this
Longs for home
For the distant glow
Of melting light
For the sweet sting
Of scalding tea
For the silken touch
Of callused fingers
Worn through love and time.
The lack of it aches
In the cacophony
Inside your head
The white noise drowning
The soft hums of a voice
Too far away.
In the thousand nails that prick
Behind your eyelids
And pull you from sleep.

But pinpricks turn

Into gleaming edges

Of knives that cut deep

Silver glinting with

The warmth of red

Keeping you awake.



It’s easy to forget

Easy to lose yourself

And everything else

In the sounds

In the swirl

Of the world around you

Shifting, moving, blurring

In the way

Time melts away

Throbbing seconds fading

Into endless hours

The ticking of clocks

Pounding like hammers

In your head.


-Gautami.

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