A face without features.

A letter without words.

A hand without fingers.

Silence without noise.

Skin without touch.

The forest without trees.

Night without the moon.

A soldier without courage.

Eyes without sight.

The spot without X.

A calling without a name.

Love without hate.

A frame without a picture.

A bird without wings.

A swan without grace.

They were here.
I can see them.
I can hear how they clapped and shouted.

I can smell their vintage scent
I can feel their dead presence.
I can taste their attention in the
Midnight air.

Performing for no one,
performing for them.
Speaking at my loudest
So the dead can hear.

The Dead Audience, more alive
Than the one that breathed.
Energy flowing through the veins
Of the ones who were deceased.

They were here.
I can see them.
How they clapped.
And shouted.

I'VE FOUND COLOUR,
MR.GREY

I have nothing to say.