I hum over
The mundane.
Sing when happy.
Seek ink trails
When sad.
Carry stars in
Pockets to
Swim through
The darkness.
..
Giggles in the
Funerals.
Not so uncommon
Dark humour.
Melancholia
At will.
Long stare at
The ceiling fan.
You know..
Just incase...
..
Quite unusually,
The radio plays
An unfamiliar song.
Maybe Italian.
But who cares
Right?
Death has
No color.
..
The crowd and
Empty rooms,
Are the same.
Silence and
Noise,
No difference.
The same strand
Of thought,
Which gave me
Clarity,
Has recocheted
From the edges
Of my brain.
..
The fine line
Between black
And white is
Now lost in
Grey.
And right now,
Even if you
Stab and say
"Trust me".
Maybe I will.
Right away.
..
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