Wednesday, November 23, 2016

An Ode to Sadness

There's a melancholy
A gray fog hanging from the ceiling
It can be cleaned up with a broom like twirling cotton candy,
like spider webs
It builds up when I want to feel something
I let it pile up on top of each other when I want something to be touched
and for something to touch me
I like to watch it float around my head space
and I feel an infinite sort of calm,
a purpose
Because why bother making progress
and accomplishing goals
when I have this chronic waiting period to occupy me
This ultimate excuse to lie motionless on my bed
to not even try
Sometimes it isn't heavy, and it's just like the weight of a blanket
and it's oddly comforting

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