Melancholy Incarnate

I find nothing in you

I wouldn’t find in a graveyard.

Your thoughts are lifeless drones

Of insecurity,

And your poetry makes me suicidal.

Eternal damnation

Would be imprisonment in your mind,

Doomed to haunt the

Kingdom of your despair forever.

No, thank you.

Because your soul is rotten

And smells like

Corpse’s breath

And I refuse to touch

Your skin for fear

Of contact

With oblivion.

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2 thoughts on “Melancholy Incarnate

Thoughts? I love those.

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