Symptom Recital by Dorothy Parker

I do not like my state of mind;
I'm bitter, querulous, unkind.
I hate my legs, I hate my hands,
I do not yearn for lovelier lands.
I dread the dawn's recurrent light;
I hate to go to bed at night.
I snoot at simple, earnest folk.
I cannot take the simplest joke.
I find no peace in paint or type.
My world is but a lot of tripe.
I'm disillusioned, empty-breasted.
For what I think, I'd be arrested.
I am not sick. I am not well.
My quondam dreams are shot to hell.
My soul is crushed, my spirit sore:
I do not like me any more.
I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse.
I ponder on the narrow house.
I shudder at the thought of men.
I'm due to fall in love again.

3 comments:

Princess Haiku said...

This sounds about right and also sounds like the everyday human condition. Hope you are okay and feeling better than this. There's a lot to be said for being a dreamer.

moif said...

Wow. The new look is very nice!

Cyan said...

Thank you. I haven't been posting much, and I'm thinking that I need to rectify that. I thought a new "frock" might help.