Within a warning
where teardrops are black,
a face is wearing
its isolation,
its merged years
outside-in.
This is where I’ve died,
hoping to go back,
meaning to move on.
This is where fear
escalates,
where pain becomes
an idol to worship.
I’m a dream away
from ending
this unwanted nightmare.
But I’m yours
to lead me along
into your doom.
Triumph in your
malevolent tragedy.
An anchor
has brought us low
when confined to this
numbing malady.
We’re here to see
no spaces, between
the fog
nor the chill,
stirring in absence
of our sanity.
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