Melancholia (if an angel, an angel came)


Real is where we are right now, so cold and rare that I see you, blended in a fairer side, taste me more than I taste you. Cobblestones well most can’t feel, that heel that’s bruised it’s me and you, shadow comes and twilight bends, and then its dark and how it rains, it rains. Rare a storm that ever ends, but melancholia, loves such sin, to bring the soul to just one drop of where the wind does end, so silent in the end. I thought it such a single road, a sharp thought held in poet’s prose, a rose that’s died and then turned blue, I thought me better than you, and then there comes the truth.

Melancholia, a place of art, a sociopathic kind of start, the creative side of blue, the street where daemons stare at you. A genesis, we title fun, beginning gothic, self-persona of. An innocent prick of the pin that draws pictures in the blood of sin, and there in silence while eyes stare old. Those wild perusing, rhymes so cold, that melancholia without end, that rules the world without the wind, and oh what love it’s lost within. For all is downward in a trend, and just as dusk comes in self-pain, narcissistic endeavor in black rain. To walk and draw such art in mind, self-absorbed, descent in mind, and what would happen in this pain if an angel, an angel came.

…. if an angel, an angel came!!!!

A cover warms me, keeps me dry, a strong willed woman, who does not lie, a shield from prying eyes that cry. An instrument formed from G_D’s own why. A blend of treasure, laughing through, over and over and its truth. She says you’ll write where there is wind, and stop, the torture that’s within, and what must go, must go first, that melancholia, that is of earth, that self-absorption from within, that dank dark secret that just pretends. For this strange journey must endure, with light around you, of that I’m sure, for melancholia cannot win, I see those eyes, and they are pure, but those behind you, you must fight, for you are worth to be of light, to be of light.

Real is where we are right now, so cold and rare that I see you, blended in a fairer side, taste me more than I taste you.

For my wife Susan who is my angel – 10.09.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

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11 thoughts on “Melancholia (if an angel, an angel came)

  1. A sweet piece of prose, Daniel! It makes me happy knowing you love your wife, Susan, to these depths.
    Loving & being loved is most important.
    Jon Secada sings a beautiful song most passionately!
    Cheers to another great post!

    • Thank you. I do so agree. It’s not a judgment call on my part just an observation, based on anecdotal cases, but it seems all the anti-depressants in the world have masked the beauty, but failed to defeat the dread.

      • If you won’t judge, I will! Utter agreement, anti depressants tend not to work, tending to create emotionally detached drones, they mask true feeling, and sadness is a necessary feeling.

  2. Thank you. Now you have done it, allowed me to freely stand on my soapbox, letting the toothpaste out of the tube so as to speak, never to return intact. 😉 Look at the emotionless (experts) handing all the candy out, and to children no less. Lets start em young. 😦

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