Black

He takes his paint brush, and I become night.

When I awoke this morning

before my eyes could see

I realized the nighttime

had turned the world to black.
 

My world had returned to black.
 

I had noticed the grey

slowly creeping in,

filling in the cracks

around the broken places.
 

It filled them all, and all was black.
 

My own personal demon,

the one who shares my name,

he carries the blackness with him -

he keeps it close at hand.
 

He paints me with his brush until I’m gone.
 

Now a cold dark shadow

in the best of  moments.

And a howling beast

in the worst of times.
 

First the pain,

then the howling,

then the shadow,

then the black.
 

Only black.