Melancholy

The mood lifts from the lips, parched with permanent nicotine, and falls, like snowflake-ashes from a turbulent volcano. The uninhabited eye, underneath the patch - a vacant stare into a cloudless night with flamenco-stars. Further from the truth comes the truth of perspective, perspicacity, the long draw of his cigarette and slow sigh of ringlets. The Camel scent of his clothing mixes with lavender and the draught of tears; melancholy plugs up the dike. An occasional red fingernail, as if down a chalkboard, his spine, taunts the old timer. He grunts, and drains the erupting whiskey bottle. Thoughts take wing…oft’ he hears her laughter, a bird call. Good eye plucked from the bar, placed with the rest of the stars - he doesn’t deserve the halo above his habitat, the floor. Every day, life spins, like a merry-go-round, with no point. He’ll never tell - the tale is decades gone and oversold. 5/7/2023 Anatomy of Melancholy Sponsor: Craig Cornish