there is a subtle flow
an undertow created
where the world around me
and the books begin calling
a sandbar of my own emotional
misinterpretations mangled
by a lack of vernacular affinity
a vortex, a whirlpool, a tear
pulling the beauty from
the inspirations until all

becomes gray

a succulent buffet, an array
of sensual spices wafting
on a warm summer breeze to be
happily consumed in mouth
watering gluttonous slurps
yet all i can serve of this
sensous feast is bland gruel
unseasoned in thin white
nothingness as projected from
my colorblind insecurities

it’s all gray

carbon copied from degenerated
dna strands a worn bearing on
a centrifuge reducing the velocity
incapable of seperating the chaff
from the wheat leaving a poor
texture to churn on the subtle
tastebuds in the tongue of
creativity leaving a lump now
impossible to swallow that chokes
the light from the world now gray