The graphite gloom invites me to draw upon my artistic soul once more, to expand that great canvas and create new paths, new doorways.
The gloom hugs my skin as a protective brother, always bringing a sense of stoic calmness until the light returns, which deters of no coming back.
It's that day of drowning, here again, the cold wash only I can feel. I don't want to get up. I don't want to move at all. And in that moment it takes all the strength I have to make a good choice, to reach forward and grab the cold plate of food. But I am nowhere near hungry. I am hungry for blood. I don't want to feel anything. Nothing. Not even this despair.
I have always loved the flowers and the birds, loved the sunlight and the clouds that drift by. I have always loved the way the leaves move in a bre
