A cup empty I poured the contents on this Granite counter top. Alas; Placed a hand in this Mess, Convinced to flick the remnants off my finger tips Against the curtains. Certain, there was purpose In this.
It’s clear at first. Clear as day. A lack of coloration Seems quite analog in a digital age. Thus, sets the (stage or tone) for the whole room. A curse. It turns a certain Shade of crimson red.
I gasp, No air to pull from; distorted I’m dazed. Lungs violently ponding Tap, tapping Against at my rib cage. Lights fade, Grayscale in the renaissance The darkness draws me in Foreshadowing the ambiance of a wicked spirit.
I cringe, the screech I expel clings to my soul for relief. I fade slowly “Hold on to me And never let go of me” “Bum, bum” (knock) “What’s that sound,” I say “Bum, bum” (knock again) “Oh wait, I hear it again,” I think.
Light breaks. My eyes crack, A transition from night to day. I christen the floor My shirt torn And the sight I bore I meant bare. “What foreign landscape awaits,” I say, It appears inescapable. When lacking all reason to think straight. Its like: Why spectate to show face? Approach the mirror Can’t even see my face.
I hate that I take things, Replace them with more things, I don’t need. So that I feel like I’m living. I did it, I do again And again And again.
Until I’m here In a place unrecognizable. Who am I? That name I hardly know anymore. Breakthrough Perhaps I do know you. I mean, I think I do. Yes, you seem quite familiar. But I hardly remember. You’re just Unrecognizable.