The Grayman's Noose

They come and they go, like ghost in the night or phantoms in the dark they’re there but nobody knows. Nothing is proven only guessed for things only glimmer and sparkle never rest. What’s real becomes lost like that of a dream upon lips, a rude awaking from quiet bliss. What come and what go are never the same, such wants and desires never change. It’s this way or that then uncertainty hits with unanswered questions that never appear, remain unclear like water that blurs and lines that distort for more than one color our faces contort. A ridged posture we took, while so straight ahead we looked, kept locked and guarded till it broke, like the fire of one’s eyes whose hell has broke loose. So quick it came, so fast it claimed those so unaware. For white bleeds black and black bleeds white till all is shaded goodnight. Not one tone or two you ran out of ink, left with grey matter it’s too hard to think. Colors like angles are too hard to break, so I write in black and white and prefer not to think.