A mild sepia sunset fades into dingy grey,
Burdened with the weight of a falling sand grain,
A murky empty well dug for no want of water,
Makes no promises of the dregs that remain.

But must be delved for the memories of ancient rain,
By a man unable to detach recall.
His autonomous reflections push past the spectrum,
Greens and lavenders, choking time to a crawl.

Soot thickens the labour binding like a heavy shawl,
Smoke of flames fanned by purple passions long dead
Is bondage and bandage to a crippled affection
It stifles the flow from a soul that once bled.

His work numbs him but he must endure the growing dread
Before he crumbles and combusts, being weak
And unable to freely feel, accept the absence
Of all he has revered, but will never seek.

Begging persuasion, comfort of the dark and the bleak,
Denying live colour for contrasts and greys,
Reveling in blindness a fortress of ignorance,
Lulled and complacent he squanders fading days.

With inklings of affections replaced by a haze
He dredges memories for licence to feel;
But that passion is stifled when grasped at too tightly,
He’s gouging old wounds while intending to heal.

Written By RauCous