Title: Grey Death

My world was beautiful, colorful, bright.

My heart soaring far with the mixed vibrant heights.

There were blues, and pinks, and romantic reds,

yellows and blacks, and bright golden threads.

It was balanced, normal - wondrously so.

The light I pursued kept a patient, strong glow -

I knew what I wanted, what I hated and scorned...

My heart was beating with love well-adorned.

One phone call.

That was all it took.

My vision was ripped away. Not into black. No, no...

Into grey.

Have you fell in its waters?

It consumes, it destroys.

My color, my blood, my life, my love...

died.

How can something live in vibrancy in one moment - and vanish in the next?

Gone. Deceased.

Dead.

Everything blurrs, a pool of grey.

It runs through my veins, a parasite replacing what once was.

I cannot cry blue, or dive in black, or spill my own red.

Dull. Lifeless. Constant apathy, numbness...

Grey...

it preserves the carcass - but not the soul.

But...

You call us the living dead. The lunatic and snapped.

Then why...

does my heart not beat?

why do my lungs not breath?

My sight...why does it not see?

God. There is no hope. No foothold.

I am melding, melting, sinking down.

I am not alive anymore.

No, no...

I am trapped.

Drowning

Bleeding

Choking

I am felled.

Felled by grey death.

Sources: Personal empathy and imagination. Observance. 

Ingredients: Color, grey, deprivation, hopelessness, capitulation.

Peculiar observations: On the emergence of grey - and my conjuring of it - my composition, motivation, and quality of writing degraded dramatically - in accordance with the feeling. Apathy heightened, and a dull heavy weight settled on the slight right side of the chest, giving a suffocating sensation. Further experiemention is to be handled with caution.