The Art of Sinking

“The Art of Sinking”

Darkness swallows my everyday

time must stand still because I know no sun

this light is thick and dark—I only see different shades of black

every day I rot away.

My skin fades to grey and

I begin to appreciate all that is around me.

The different shades of darkness cause

my eyes to adjust to the

blackness that has become my norm.

What is there to see?

What is there to see if not nothingness?

The blue-black flowers bloomed late in the spring this year—

they’re darker than they usually are around this time of year

the flowers bring me a cheap joy.

I can smell the difference when they inhabit my home—my hole,

my obsession with this darkness is something I can’t express.

It’s something my words fall short of shall I confess;

my fading to black then purple then blue then grey is not harmful.

As I fade remember—it’s spring now.