I've awakened to grey themes,
they cling to me.
I am myself again,
but nowhere near.

I am myself again,
as if death had life to give.
An offering at best,
and crippling the gift.

It bends, it burns,
it dies.
It's held in so tight,
just let it die.

It builds, it floods,
it's empty.
Spewing out the same nonsense
from so long ago.

Eclipsed by the blood,
blackened by the stares.
Dead death blooms,
lingering a hollow consciousness.