The Wedding (day 2156)

I want to have a terribly sad wedding
The saddest wedding of all
Where all the guests dress in black
And music will be sombre
Leading many attendees to tears.
I want the food to evoke heartbreak
And the clouds to be forever ominous
Dead midwinter grays will be everywhere
The roses will be dried
And their stems quick to draw blood
With fires burning and candlesticks
That attracts gazes of lost reverie.
I will have guests
Sign their names in blood
And a butler will be there to request it
With orders not to ever smile.
Each place will be set
With Gothic cutlery
And matching black napkins
Folded in a melancholy way.
I want an organ to hold a single chord
For the entire evening
An omnipresent chord
That each song will be tuned to
Maybe a D melodic minor
Or a F flat diminished 7th.
And on my wedding day just so
There will only be one person
Standing at the alter
It will be the pastor
Of an unimaginably vague faith
Whom nobody will know
And nobody will greet
And nobody will listen to his words
For they will blend right in
With the grumbling organ
In the key of terribly sad.
I will watch the whole preceding
Not greeting a single guest
Feom my perch high up
A balcony through my vaulted windows
Of my cold stone house
And there I will sit
Surrounded by ghosts
That I forgot to invite
To my terribly sad wedding
And sitting close by
Without a smile on her face
Will be love for the rest of my life.

Sweet Nothings (day 1746)

I can’t take,
No. More.
I don’t want to take
Bitter trivialities
Into Madness
Cloaking an angelic voice
Like fog that rolls
About my brain
Before I’ve uncovered
Melancholy feelings
Resting just below
Its surface,
Reeling in abysmal horror
As toxins begin
To take to my veins
And surround my insight
With sweet nothings.

Old Tree (day 1193)

Pass through my heart as I whisper now,
I was born to be let free.
Let my whispers carry melancholy,
For my lover forever tarries.
I am a rambling rose letting great seas
Tumble me deep down below.
And let my eyes gently close
With a good nights sleep;
Old tree fallen in the night.

Old Tree by Ned Tobin

Necessity (day 447)

It’s time like these
That push us forward
That search the records
Of what we’re looking for

It’s melancholy
This act of faith
Trespassing further
Towards the gate

Then, only a whisper
Reaches the ears
For the distance is
A far reproach

Encouraged within
The act of necessity
A grain to learn
A gain to earn

Springs Night Air Thoughts (day 295)

A lonely walking along the springs night air
Has a traveler thinking about matters to beware
If ever there was a time for spewing melancholy
The drip drip drip of the morning dew would induce
Such a state of ephemeral excitement ensues
Leaving the steps slightly quicker
In a race against time to return home
Gather the tidbits of nonchalantly whimsical
Ideas that flow rather seamlessly forth
Did we exude the true meaning of all of our thoughts?

Uneven Sleep (day 285)

I had an uneven sleep
Like the homeless on the cement
Dying for the months rent
Listlessly wandering into another step
For what, I fear the answer
I fear the melancholy it invites
I fear the destruction it involves
Without a comfortable cloth to my name
How lame it must seem
To the truly advanced souls of this land
Where once was a stone
Now creeps up some glass
Greenery once ran rampant throughout
But now is delicately placed high above
In secret places only the few birds know about
But then, where have our secrets come from?
Whither have they gone?