Melancholy    

It's amazing,
How when one is down in the dumps
one finds melancholy in everything
Like the simple sound of water as it collects in the porcelain sink

Stark loneliness like razor blades licking the flesh
The piercing silence once cherished becomes unbearable
Sometimes all a human needs is the sound of another person flipping pages in the next room

No trace of the morning's lucidity
Or serenity

Like clockwork the numbing ensues

The perennial rain complements the lingering depression
And so does the black hoodie on my back.