You can't keep track
of my mind's
maudlin meanderings -
hither and thither,
turning,
twisting,
cavorting
with the lurid charisma of darkness.

Drip-fed drugs
offer scant reprieve
for either of us;
greyness,
all-consuming,
is devoid of personality
and charm.

This contortion you see -
is it me?
Is it what you'd like me to be?
In your ideal world
would you wish your child born grey?