Dark thoughts perch lightly above
scrawny limbs,
while underneath my feet touch
the dismal comfort of phantasmagoric pastures.

and there's a muzzle on my mouth
and a noose around my neck
tightening, gripping
I find morbid comfort in it's baleful
embrace.

The crows don't sing but their feet
sting my twigs
and they stare
and they whisper.

Clocks melt away but the numbers
remain etched in to my skin.
the muted rhythm,
I begin to lose my sanity.

The colors run down my skin
down the drain
someone's poured water
unto my charcoal world.

isolation is now familiar
my heart is upside down.
The dark thoughts perch
in the fragile balance of my mind
will snap
and I'll become part of a past.