the light over
the eastern wall
once a beacon
now a malaise of
over saturation
in which all shades fade
into a wheezing gray
devoid of definition

there is a pressure
to the stillness
as dawn spills over
the floodgates release
an ever encroaching
wave of desolation

i am deafened by this
silent reproachfulness
blinded and bound by
the skeletal fingers of
a gnarled old oak
feet kicking weakly as
the rope cinches around
this hollowbone throat
until the hazy gray malaise
is the only external stimuli
swallowing dreamshatter
and defecating this
antithesis of joyful succor
feebly twitching while
the light in my eyes
becomes naught but
a reflection as seen
in doomed marbled regrets