After Dinner

Classical music wafts in the background,

a low, tinkling sound that melds with the rattle of the radiators.

The dishes are piled up, needing to be washed,

the laundry hangs from miscellaneous light fixtures as it dries,

and the crumbs from dinner are spread across the couch.

But I will sit,

and try to enjoy this cup of coffee.

Perhaps I will figure out

how to tread water in this melancholy

because otherwise

I will drown in it.

what is that feeling

What is that feeling

the one that sits in the middle of your chest

and threatens to encompass your entire being

while dribbling down into your gut

like sewage infecting pure water

the one that ends up pooling in your feet

making them too heavy

to pick up off the floor

the feeling that swirls up like cigarette smoke

making your throat dry and ragged

and filling up your head with a fog

that tastes like ash

What is that feeling?