What it's like to Wander

Without Grace, With Loneliness

The color of the graphite
As I write between
The lines on my notebook
Stains my mind with grey.

The shadows and highlights
In the dark expanse of my room,
Not much to see
But the imagination grows.
The lamp sways.
The more you watch it's
Dancing
If you look away
The couch cushions jump
And turn into little figures,
           Friends.

Some are scared of the dark
But I find it fascinating
The more you stare
The less logical it becomes.
Soon, ghosts appear
To take you away from
The reality of your room.
You lay in bed
Staring at your ceiling
You don't move a muscle but
Your eyes see to infinity.
Is it possible? No, but
It's happening. Just
Try to see from my
           Perspective.
In the dark.
In my grayscale.