ON COMFORT (IN EUNOIA)

Depression is my friend

                                                            Cold comfort

That rings and echoes through canyons

Reverberating chambers: sharp retorts

That cut and burn and sting like melodies

Sang by children

                                    Ring around the Rosie:

We all fall down.

Bitter coffee grinds, coarse on limestone

Gritt'shly damp in my mistress’s pantyhose

She smiles: the sun cast gaze

                                    Towards my dark and sullen face

                                    That black, despicable, fate

WOOSH-SNAP.

The wind whips the corporal to attention

Cold white cotton; the captain’s test

Frozen limbs spur frozen rest

Perpetually stuck

                                    A brand-new ice age

So is my philosophy that governs

The wholistic capacity completed

I am not my father’s son

Depression is my friend

                                                            Cold Comfort

A winter hug.

The frosty breath.

The betrayal of a friend.

                                                            No comfort.