literature

Ennui

Deviation Actions

MyrHansen's avatar
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Published:
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Literature Text

I don't know how to say this
so that you might understand
that the key I bear is broken
and the lock is filled with sand;
I knock but no one answers;
there are shadows on the blinds.
I recall the bell that rang here, once,
but cannot hear the chimes.
And the preacher sings in Latin
but these ears were made for brail;
I spin myself into a top,
retrace my dizzy trail.
Time – that wholesome melody
that once I strived to woo,
across the marble courtyard
where the dance was always new –
has shrugged my ill advances,
and has taken to the fields
where She hides between the poplar trees,
her countenance concealed.
All the ground is tissue
and my feet are made of stone;
each heavy, grinding step I take
exposes pearly bones.
The path that leads me upward
is the path I'm listing down;
though thought precludes the masterpiece,
my want has nothing found
but the steps that trace the pulpit
where my zeal has plainly paled;
and the pun, the point, the closing bit
is webbed in dusty veils.
Well, you're urging me into the beams
cast along the creek
but can't you see? I'm faltering
my sight is growing weak.
Come see me in a day, or two
feel free to write instead.
For I've nothing here to feed the muse
but the sense that flees my head.
Had a really bad bout of melancholy and listlessness last week that lead to some unwarranted crying, lazing about, and general lack of interest in anything.

Pretty much gone now, fortunately, but this was a product.
© 2010 - 2024 MyrHansen
Comments4
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Leonca's avatar
This has a great flow to it. Strangely enough, I actually heard the words forming a song in my mind as I read it. It seems like it would break up well for that kind of thing.