Rainy days, the clouds make way, and shape themselves into a gray
Muddy skies, like tear-stained eyes, bound in droplets running dry
A hunger growls, the windows howl, drawn out colors shade the wall
A static state, of blacks and grays
A white that bleeds an impure slate.
Transitions pause, a dormant clause, the earth dissolves into it's flaws
A static state, of aging grays, time slides by on frozen lakes.

-A.L.J-