Wednesday, 6 March 2013

On Melancholy


The gentleness of it sags like thick tires loosely around the neck to make expiration easy.

The weight of it makes laughter erupt in delightful and insane bursts cracking open walls.

The fullness of it makes edges sharper, and music warmer because everyone’s touch is so far away.

The voices of it are soft, subtle, insidious songs that suffuse singularity.

The spirit of it is a dark distillation of breath and breadth, weighing softly on rage and courage.

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