Stares moodily,
Into the empty screen in front.
A body bereft of a desire,
To rise or move -
Stuck in the comfort,
That inertia alone can tempt with.
The empty canvas,
Of the mind's eye-
Retraces the patterns,
That nostalgia brings forth.
The old and familiar -
Seem a safe haven,
To slink and escape to.
The reality now,
Too jaded-
For the soul,
So faded.
The noir,
Conspicuous in it's ire-
Wanes into grey too,
As the numbness
Steals into the
Deepest corners of the heart.
He had played his part,
Living dead,
Loving the dead.
Now, it was time
To bow out-
Turn the page,
Turn over into
A green new leaf.
