it is deep
the murky black
that consumes
the heart and soul

a vanishing sense
the directions misguided
missing in places found
a void disjointed

the absence of color
the lack
what is missing
in me, and you?

i wish i could tell you
or choose a pigment
of the brightest paint
but sometimes
color isn't enough

so all that's left
is black
it's deep
consuming void

a swirling vortex
that i tried
desperately to
color blue; to float

it isn't blue
the dark persistent
gnawing endlessly
ceaseless

i still
have not found what
i am missing
my exhaustion seeps
the murk creeps

it isn't always worth
painting over
is it?
maybe this time

i will choose to sink.