The Good Evening Melancholy

The Good Evening Melancholy

The melancholy of the evening
Hits me hardest on this day, today
The usual shrapnel of a faraway bomb
Replaced by the ticker and the beater
Inside my chest and sleepy eyelids, today

The conquest of my world is lost
The armies I command draw no fire, today
Left out on the open plain, the open drain
They celebrate the battle they have not yet fought
Inside themselves, as they prepare for the rot, today

Not today
The rot, not today
They say after me, not today
They say with eyes unblinking
They say with their widest grins
They say, not, today

The games played by the mind and the minds
The faceless words and the epithets
The grins of a thousand toothless faces
They always knew, not, today

This melancholy and the memories
Littered with today's songs and monologues
I see a change in the leaves of a distant continent
The change of seasons and change of hearts
I see it before it sees that I've seen

The melancholy of a dusty evening of changing seasons
I've seen it all

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