Surprisingly, the boredom was a welcome feeling,
Deprived of solitude.
The grey so sickeningly consumed my canvas,
But I let it.
Contorted figures on the ceiling danced me to sleep,
Woken barely by a song.
I can’t tell anymore, where it ends,
Where it begins.
A study of colours;
What made sense and what didn’t.
Red and blue, red and black, red and green?
I don’t know.
Notwithstanding, onwards and upwards.
Slowly but surely, making ends justify means.
The adversity of triumph was masked,
Blood stained hands covered my eyes,
But I let them.
For the worst has passed,
A brief pause pressed heavily on my chest,
Forcing a breath.
Blue blood draws back,
Maybe it’s the slow rush from the brain
To the fingertips.
Or the eyes that sought reprieve,
That answered the door to solitude.
He was a welcome friend.