Tristan Robert Lange

The ABCs of SAD

Always in a state of anxious anticipation while

Bewaring the beauty that is surrounding me.

Constantly feeling the butterflies of

Dread;

Everlasting fearful flutters that cause in me a

Forging of the blade that sears my heart and

Guts me, spilling out my entrails from within.

How my eternal state of sadness lies

In perpetuity like winters in the North—

Just as the anxious acid pit at my core—

Killing me in colorful autumnal shades of death.

Lost in the falling feeling of despair,

Morose meanderings through my macabre mind

Never cease to haunt my feeble existence.

Open to healing,

Peace fails to ever find its way through

Quick sand tunnels constantly collapsing in

Rushing revelations of destructive doom.

Short of ever severing the cord that ties me

To this tormenting chamber of trepidation—

Undermining my hope for health—

Vacuum-sealed, the season sucks out the air,

Which suffocates me with wasteful abandon.

Xiphoid Xysters scrape away at my skeletal soul.

Yesterday, progressing in all of its shades of gray,

Zombifies me in a tomb of imminent ice.

© 2024 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.