by pasdelabas

How easy is melancholy to revive
Just now by it’s absence
I recalled finding the yellow archangel
On a lane in a wood in Berkshire when I was young
Which too is facile to evince
The sense of being old that comes with age and fatigue

I spend time on the edge of tears
I should maybe seep water to find relief
The ground is soft here
Returning to it might be a relief
Either death or simply pissing