#tbt untitled poem from 2011


I am defenseless…

against this melancholy.

Not blue, but black… sometimes gray.

Overpowering, ubiquitous, and almighty.

Leaving me feeling weak, lost

and incapable of action –

any action or reaction or will to fight to be me, to be true.


I just lay there engorged in the black,

swallowed whole by this monster of affect/abjectness/


Filled with black bile,

burdened by its heavy load,

I am immobile.

I do not have the will to fight

nor the courage to subside to it completely

– in a purgatory of the psyche.


How long can this battle go on?


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