Life of Loneliness

My living room

has a wall with black cracks in it

high on the top left corner.

They move in silence so slowly

as they are expanding and growing,

through the yellowed old white paint,

like a beautiful black flower

on snow lonely bloming.

There is a storm brewing.

Through hallucinations / I see poetry,

all of my creations / are broken symmetry,

My wall becomes a canvas and sickness

takes my paintbrush all for himself.

Getting every color in a rush,

and use it all up / and now my

black and white garden wall,

is no more peaceful and lush,

only a stain of brown slush.

And with capital letters painted on the wall,

a warning that tells me.