me, I writhe in dirty sheets
        while staring at blue walls
        and nothing.

        I have gotten so used to melancholia
        that
        I greet it like an old
        friend.

        I will now do 15 minutes of grieving
        for the lost redhead,
        I tell the gods.

        I do it and feel quite bad
        quite sad,
        then I rise
        CLEANSED
        even though nothing
        is solved.

        that's what I get for kicking
        religion in the ass.

        I should have kicked the redhead
        in the ass
        where her brains and her bread and
        butter are
        at ...

        but, no, I've felt sad
        about everything:
        the lost redhead was just another
        smash in a lifelong
        loss ...

        I listen to drums on the radio now
        and grin.
        there is something wrong with me
        besides
        melancholia.

Ouch