Dear Melancholy,

I think you left your everything when you came over yesterday,
In fact I think you may indeed still be here entirely.
Filling the folds in my wrinkled pajamas. Clinging to my unshowered frame.
You're crippling, impossibly heavy.
Beneath your weight, I bend-
into a malleable ice cream-eating, channel surfer.
How tubular.
Oh well.