14 February 2013
The weeping, drooping yellow glow Pouring from the light Soaks into my flaking skin; Tinting the faded wallpaper The same color as My suffocating hope.
If the door opens, Will color sit on the other side? Or is the whole world soaked In melancholy monochrome -- The ultimate conclusion Of my decrepit loneliness?
It is easier to wallow In the annals of my pain In the fragile hope that Oz sits in waiting beyond The threshold of my Shattered sepia prison.
The Aftermath • Opuss № I