I do not wear the brightest colors
they blister on me like false hallelujahs,
like hymns sung by mouths that never tasted ash.
Red is a lie. Yellow screams.
I was meant for grey
for the shade that lives between smoke and surrender.

I hate the sun
its gold teeth, its cruel spotlight.
It peels me open like fruit left out too long.
Give me the sky when it's weeping,
when it folds in on itself like grief
tucked beneath an old coat.

Sweet coffee tastes like apology.
I drink it black
like a widow’s veil,
like ink spilled on a suicide note.
I want the bitterness to bite,
to remind me that even silence can scald.

Joy is foreign
a costume that fits someone else’s ghost.
When I laugh, it echoes wrong,
as if joy is borrowing my voice
and not returning it.
I was stitched from thunderclouds,
from cellar air and moth wings.

I do not like people.
Their voices swarm like flies
around the fruit I’ve already thrown out.
Their love is too loud, too pink.
I crave solitude the sharp knife of it,
clean, precise, and without perfume.

Io! Maestro dell'essere,
mente a scacchi,
pronta a muovere la prossima pedina
con apatia e ordine. Ordine.

Non implorerò, mai, di avere
un nuovo paio di occhi
che non vedano in bianco e nero,
magari solo meno ingenui, idioti.

Ormai non mi vedo più nello specchio:
spalle, alzate.
Schiena, inarcata.
Capo chino. Pietoso. Indegno!

** già tutto quello che mi serve:
mani di pietra e velluto,
una fronte, rugosa, che parla,
risate tra il folle, e il nobile. Nobile.

///

Me! Master of being,
chess mind,
ready to move the next pawn
with apathy and order. Order.

I will, never, beg to have
a new pair of eyes
that do not see in black and white,
maybe just less naive, idiotic.

I no longer see myself in the mirror:
shoulders, raised.
Back, arched.
Head bowed. Pitiful. Unworthy!

I already have everything I need:
hands of stone and velvet,
a forehead, wrinkled, that speaks,
laughter between the madman, and the noble. Noble.

It was yes or no,
Black and white,
But I’ve grown
Into seeing the gray.
I realized that there
Is a sky full of stars
In between the night
And the day.

The black and white has lost its silhouette
The lines slip from the page
Who can say what reality remains?
Those who exist in three dimensions
Will decide where the truth of the matter lies
And if we're better off

The world pauses, a little more than eight
A man's lost his breath to another
It wasn’t theirs to take
Those who exist on the other side of the screen
Will decide where the truth of the matter lies
And if we're better off

A bounty is placed, a renegade is born
The long arm reaches for another soul,
Another soul is pawned
Those who exist for the law
Will decide where the truth of the matter lies
And if we're better off

A man is led to the edge of the world
He's pushed and plummets into the unknown
Everything in him breaks, but he survives the fall
Those who were standing behind him
Will decide where the truth of the matter lies
And if we're better off

Is any justice worth an injustice?
Can it still be called justice?
When the means don't justify the ends,
Is anybody really, truly, better off?

Why does this darkness exist? The power to bring death and destruction

So quickly it came to rest at his fingertips–am I still human?

It appeared as a vortex of shadows–he thought it a hallucination

It was insane and all too real, he could not resist stepping into the swirling dark

He thought it meant the end, but he was wrong

The unending black, still, and quiet

He found security

What does it mean when the “inner you” is silent?

Black tower, his home, wherever it stands, a spiral stair, sharp spines, sheer design

Black throne, occupied

Black blade, the edge of balance, cutting through eternity

What is in between black and white?

This is the effect of light, across space and time

Sitting at the center of his world, thinking, brooding, asking questions you are afraid to answer

What do you see when you look into your own eyes?

Testing those who call for it, testing you

Making people prove themselves–do you really know what life and love are?

Digging deep, bearing water from the well of notions

What things do you do or say because of your fears?

I will not leave until I crack every porcelain mask

Life is black and white
One moment you are full of feels
Another you are nothing but an empty vase
Tell me which is worse
Tell me which is better

The feeling of being accepted
The feeling of being appreciated for lil’ things
The feeling of belonging to someone and someplace
The feeling of chasing dreams with hope
The feeling of inspiration brewing within you
The feeling of loving life while watching the sun set
The feeling of the sipping on the warm coffee
The feeling of cold water running down your body
The feeling of waking up to a sunny morning
The feeling of overcoming your fear of dogs
The feeling of achievement after finishing a 3000-word essay
The feeling of being

Or

The peaceful feeling of being lost in your own dimension
The peaceful feeling of not talking to anyone
The peaceful feeling of not having to trust a soul
The peaceful feeling of laying hopelessly  
The peaceful feeling of the 3am routine
The peaceful feeling of the bitter sensation of liquor
The peaceful feeling of hot water running in the dark space
The peaceful feeling of not leaving your bed
The peaceful feeling of gazing at the ceiling
The peaceful feeling of just being

Tell me which is worse
Tell me which is better