Monument, unsculpted
Melancholia
Masterpiece, abandoned
Melancholia
Numb limbs guide the pen struggling to name this place I could never see before
A monument, unsculpted
Vision stirs inside, always find my ink runs dry
Or am I going blind again?
Masterpiece, abandoned
Don’t stir
Don’t speak
Don’t breathe
Don’t think
Am I not made to co-create, generate?
With frozen tongue, I stagnate
Without my voice, can’t purify, exorcise
Sorrow wakes, fear arrives
Adrift
An architect with aching hands and failing sight
Builds a prison in his own mind
Believing himself buried within a sarcophagus of his own design
It materialized
No lock, no key
I could be free
By sheer will I free myself
I devour my own melancholia
Savor the daze of melancholia
Exalt the beauty in melancholia
Exit myself through melancholia
I devour my own melancholia
Diving deeper into melancholia
Offer up a prayer to melancholia
I have mastered my melancholia
