melancholy lake
who never thinks too cold, too coldly of themself
who lay awake (toûtseul) in tha dark room & thot to
disappear themself.
who would not (not not notnot) be consoled & raged
on pompous ponces, jowlyfacd rich people &
that melancholic pool, despair
last night I dreamt brad pitt and I were lovers, we
had each committed a murder and confessed to
ours in turn—he had killed someone who wouldn’t
leave w/ him right away to go somewhere, a party
or something. I—I had killed someone just then,
as we took a turn around melancholy lake, which
at first (in the dream) was a salt mine. the salt
farmer was giving a lecture on the ecology of
the pool, it was in santa cruz, it was toxic, (we do
not anymore hear of a clean pool or pond)
(so that even narcissus is uglified) there were chunks
of it, salt, floating about at the edges of a pool or
pond, resembling ice. I could not (cannot) recollect
the details of my own murder (the one I had
myself(myself) committedof late). in any case, we walked around the lake
(as I said) on a vertiginous & slippery path of
salt which seemed like ice, and the broken pieces of it floating near, salt rather, gave
a cold and melancholic feeling, and the color of the blue of the pool turned
pale green at its center, making it appear warm
and tropical. the whole effect was so seductive
brad wanted to leap in. I understand, I communicated
to him, the desire to leap into the lake of despair but
come now old boy do let’s carry on