Beneath a turned stone,
you see us scatter.
In the realm of lights-outs and pitch-blacks,
a borough infested, now coloured hazel
and cast into the obscure.
A new world turned inside-out,
a haven upside-down.
We retreat from collision and of collapse
as our dividing landscapes betray us,
rid of light yet chasing the shadow.
In mud, we bathe;
upon another, we climb.
Crumbling sounds shiver us from within
as declining space starts to suffocate.
Though, weep not for I’m but contagious.
Deluded and misconfigured,
fleeting repellents, in need of contamination.
Colour, colour.
The end I see through colours.
