13 November 2016


Wont concede this is depression but yes, there’s 
an air of subjugation in wretchedness; its th’ pain 
you can’t put a handle on or anguish suppressed 
where there’s no justice: misery speaks a cruelly 
aggravated litany of ruthless exploitation and the  
suffering thence behests more of the same - this 
is an irony when there’s nothing but icons where 
whim builds myopic mountains of tepid tyranny 

So we drag ourselves away from self-despair; if 
we’d be authors of our own shame lets record it 
fairly - whose ideas curdled th’ soup that seems 
to’ve been produced in a misconceived batch of 
misanthropic ‘n depressive melancholy blamed 
f’ where we’ve claimed to’ve found its cavities 
© 18 June 2016, I. D. Carswell