melancholia

i am singing in reverse
up the coast
under twisted tree limbs
encroaching on the roads edge
it's pretty and scary all at once
i sit down to remember her
like the feeling of sand
under my feet

the walrus i was
has washed up on the shore again
feed for the swooping birds
nothing is wasted
my haunted guts wretch
and mingle with the lonely
rusty lawnmower that runs
over my spleen with ease
with cool vengeance

we're tired with dreaming
fed up with stitching us
back together
piece by bloody piece
another bus goes by
without stopping
for our broken feet
a traffic signal refuses to turn
somebody kicks the chair away
they hang in an empty bedroom

the floors are spotless