My heart seemingly grows colder with each daunting eve that passes
Devoid of emotion.
Unable to ‘love’.
Unable to
Live
Just hard and empty and
Black.
Black as the shadows I chase.
The shadows of the past that loom over me,
Like the little black cloud that stalks me.
That taunts me,
That haunts me.
Black.
Black as the air around me,
Thick with the scent of cigarette smoke
Alive
to the tune of the teeming traffic
As this companioning cancer stick blackens my lungs.
My one true ‘friend’,
There when I need it most…
There in my hour of need,
My one true friend,
Killing me.
Killing
Me.
At its heart, so cold and deadly and
Black
Yet so addictive.
Black
like the shell I’ve so often found myself lost in
The shrunken violet,
the wall-flower,
Wandering aimlessly through the black halls of my sanity.
Chasing ever-evasive black shadows,
Snatching at thin air
whenever opportune is within reach.
And feeling
Actually FEELING
Time
slip through my charcoaled hands.
So black.
As black as the world I’ve come to know,
But never to love.
So cold and empty and
Black
Black.
Black…
…Is this what its like to black?
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