A Time for Gray

I always attempt at vivid imagery.

 

A Time for Gray

 

This is no longer my time,

it hasn't been for quite some time.

This is not my time for grief or agony

it is not my time for remembrance or hate

nor love nor lust nor happiness

it is not my time for fate

I wish it was.

 

I can't stomach my own town;

its plain and vacant and hungry existence.

There is no McDonald's,

no relentless baseball diamond,

no lake of bottles and letters,

no company to be enjoyed,

or alcohol to be prescribed,

for me.

There are only skeletal arrangements

based upon what is no longer mine

lax and rickety in a mist and fog covered

flat land.

This is my town.

 

My once worn dress—black and white of course

now repulsive and distant from me.

Hangs itself in the closet, a victim to faith and love

my life of gray.

My life of ash and chimney soot.

This is for me now, all I have.

 

Putrid and colorless songs

cough at me from my car radio

driving down oh, so obvious roads

against ignorant and heartless wind and rain

this is what you gave me,

this is my life of gray.