The Pain meandered through the labyrinths of my psyche,
Lighting up its murky recesses
In shades of the deepest blue;
Emancipating my passions, sluggishly, dolorously, but ceaselessly.
It whistled and sibilated,
Penetrated, saturated, adumbrated,
Eased, and unhurriedly released
The reveries of my yesterdays and tomorrows.
In its wake I breathed
Purple gusts of labored air, while
Molds of apathy, or aversion, grew roots into my veins
Scorching my soul with flares of dying supernovas.
And then, as a final promise, it walked my funeral
Facelessly, draped in the keenest black; in a silent but tense gait.
A walk that ended with our reaching the crematorium,
When it sighed, and softly cast its dulcet shroud
Over my remains, whatever had remained.
Finally, when everyone was gone,
It came to recline beside, embracing me coyishly
In its parched and vacuous, but deathless, grip.
And I remained thus for eons, crumbling,
But holding on. Because
Its hold I find warm, secure, and
The pain. My pain.