Blue daze
there's uncertain magic in melancholy
when it holds you in it's thrall.
endless whine-dings and trap-pings
help complete the dismal picture.
hour by hour you're a painting
framed by no escape.
then as a sculpture
forever frozen in sanguine poses.
melancholia as a state of mind
once studied in antique medica
experienced as a never-ending sentence
sans explanation
occasionally a scream issues forth
trying to burst the scripted
filmic loop that life has become.
