Plastic ink and pigment upon the charcoal and pencil bright of my life.
The spreading sangoire stain haunts the still open grave of my dreams.
Smoke wreathes the cyan expanse above,
Shattered remnants crunch and slice my soles.
"Let go," the whisper comes.
My hoarse breathed voice asks...
"Let go of what?"
Rusted barbed wires and shards blooded upturned, palms dripping...
Dripping...
My silent scream echoed to the abyss...
"LET GO OF WHAT?"
"You," the inane wisdom answers.
And I fall,
Fall away...
Tumbling...
Only to wake.
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