tragedy in gray

everything is
diffused in gray
lending a sort of
apocalyptical
in the best of
purgatorial air
to a solemn mourning.

the crows have all
lined along the
roofs of the neighboring
buildings to stare
baleful disinterest
from too intelligent
beady black orbs.

i whisper my love
and zip the hoodie
as a chill runs its
way down my spine
mornings like this
make me forget if
the sun has ever risen.

was there ever anymore
than ample nothing
an overload of absent
thoughts forming the
nucleus of atomic level
sorrows to burrow deep
into the tragedy in gray.

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