Black

I feel black like a smack and the crack of the back,

Slowly drifting to the end with no coming back.

I am living in the dark coz it keeps me warm,

But I am in pain from the blood stains from the bandages warn.

My bleed is a seed that apparently is making me ill,

So looking forward to that op and the drink I’ll down, pig swill.

Black is the light of the night and sunrise to me,

Go to bed at 5 or 6 and I wake up at midnight you see.

Then everything is chill and I can type away,

The night is my time, if I had to choose when to play,

I only get out of bed early if there is a dox or hoz appointment that day.

Building my BOT, writing, and doing stuff other people do in the day.

And black is the slack in my creaking old back,

With bones and nerves in pain as if I’ve been strung on the rack.

It’s not really a colour but the absence of them all,

But black is the colour that keeps me climbing the wall.

© All Rights Reserved 2022 By Robert Reid