your precisely placed golds, pinks, oranges, and splashes of rich reds
painted over by a mop-full of thick, dull graphite grey.
the words you so painfully extracted from your near-dead heart
agonizingly buried right back into the abyss of soul it came from.
your lyrics harvested from the insides of thinly-walled veins
dumped into a floating sea of dejected nothings.
shapes crafted from the convoluted map of a firing brain
morphed into one dimensional figures fitting perfectly inside a box.
frozen moments of space captured by a still-whirling mind
unfrozen and desecrated by your own, still-grieving mind.