CHRIS J. MELANSON
PoetryArtworkFiction
“Island”


I’m stranded on an island—
This deserted island of white.
Damn it! I’ve been here for a long while,
But the longer I’m here,
The less I want to leave when there’s a chance—
Every time the search planes go by, I hide.

Seems presently I’m stuck here on this fucking island,
Because everything I’ve ever done, said, wrote, and drawn
Have all been exactly the same damn things.
I’m sticking myself to this retched, putrid, classless,
Goddamned fucking island.

I’ve left my cloud.

This island is getting smaller
And soon enough will be completely submerged by the black.
But maybe,
It’ll be easier having no recollection of the past,
No feeling of the present,
And no thought of the future?

There’s so much more I want to do, say, write, and draw,
But it seems, most recently, that it’s not worth all the trouble.
I won’t let myself open my eyes to what else is out there,
That’s my fucking problem!

All Content Copyright © Chris J. Melanson. All Rights Reserved.
-Chris J. Melanson 2005