In this empty space I reach out my hand
to grasp the silken veil draped over our snow globe.
I run my fingers over its surface,
It babbles as a brook flows in between
my fingers.

Scenes constantly shift, disappear and reappear
on its surface and as I grasp the material
it crumples like an old picture crushed in disdain.
I inhale slowly, filling my lungs,
and yank the covering off
in one quick motion.

It collapses inward, being pulled towards my grasp.
The scene's decay, all fade to black one be one
and the material grows course and heavy,
piling on the ground and revealing
revealing
revealing

the deepest, most consuming black
a color so dark it seemed to absorb all light
devouring it and demanding more
and laughing all the while.

My breathing speeds
and I turn
stuck in the consuming black.