Melancholy

It leaks into my bloodstream

This solution of despair and rage

Black humour packaged and main-lined

Shooting up the bile

That brings life

without a heartbeat

And bleeding

without wounds

Between bags there is some rest

But as visitors leave

And flowers die

It ends

Is there some malicious nurse

On random erratic roster

Who delights in plumbing into me

And  turning up the drip, laughing

But  then, in covert operation

Withdraws her vascular intruder

To re-invade my bloodstream unawares.

I will walk the corridors of my life

IV stand in hand

Bag of melancholy hooked up, cathetered in

Seeking a kinder nurse

A better solution.