Grey

My life right now is the grey of a window that just won’t load.

Rushing into shapeless things to come

Foglights glaring a bright welcome to oblivion.

I spare my faded brakes another whimsy squeak.

Criminal energy amassing in my skull

I long for the lull of alcohol.

Dreaming of the way of the blade.

Spilled blood – yours or mine –

Would make things so much better.

Erich Zann has stopped playing.

Welcome  ancient lords.

My heart will come home.