A drop,
then another.
Where does it originate?
at the midst of my breath intake.
The multiple storms that have passed,
and massed,
and cast,
into the depths of oblivion,
though it was not my vision.
For these dark days
where in dark ways
my dark frays
the dark greys
fade to black.
But, lifted with white,
candy for the adult mind.
Powdered power,
lifts me above the depths,
wanting to be kept.
Initial intensity dies,
mom cries,
mind fries,
mine eyes.
My lies,
it will never end.
So blood drop,
and white sniff,
until the last beat,
and I go stiff.