its a time of day
a time where you get to sip your tea
looking out the window
listening to your favorite vinyl record

its the voice
of the breeze that holds your hand
over a hot summer's day
over a cold winter's night

its the name of the dance
as leaves follow the direction of the clouds
as you sit by the pond

its the color grey
being neutral
just like sitting down
doing nothing
yet it is also black
darkness
like the state of the void

its a phobia
of nothingness after nothingness
tears after tears
blood after blood

its a numbing sensation
of your body in slumber
no longer moving
yet still breathing

its the sound
of the pond
when you took a hit on your cigarette
under the impression of the dark empty sky

its the voice
of the trees
the threatening trees no longer dancing
but just standing by you as the breeze lets you go

its the time of night
when it's the moment you close you eyes
fall down the rabbit hole
and pray
someone doesn't catch you

it's grey
it's black
there is no border
just a binary of fate
its a philosophy
heaven forbids you take