DissociationArising from a slumber, myRetinae devourFigures, furrowed, disfiguredI watch asArbitrary impressions proceedAnd a lack of colourSupercedes What once was so beautiful: hues of reds, of yellows-- something unlike anything displaces. Even grey is gone. I miss colour.Arising from a slumber, myBalance convulsesEchoing--hollowI listen asArbitrary impressions proceedAnd static distortionSupercedes I can no longer remember what you sounded like. Your words are distant and unrecognizable, lost in tinges of pseudo-metallic interference. I miss your voice.A
Sta.sh
