mental lockdown.

she started in white

-i'm just the victim here-

and he looked himself up and down

coating his clothes black

and with a sardonic gesture

threw his hand into the red paint

and splattered it across the floor

leaving it dripping from his fingers

-i dont blame you.

its just the world. fate.karma.

the way things are-

so he threw the globe onto the scales

a list of empty calendar dates

and broken photograph frames 

-don't be like that.

i'm just the writer of words

the sketcher of unknown seas

if you will-

he smiled at that

a cold smile that peeled back from his teeth

as though they stung them

as he threw his hands into the sky

and collapsing into a heap

his black clothes sprayed with the red

like a strafed doll

left dropped in mourning

-why do you do that.

bring death into it. 

its not there for me.

leave me out of that-

so he turned his back on her

and slid through the back

leaving the empty space only

as she screamed

-don't leave me

don't leave me-

when they found her sitting

before the broken glass

and a mirror frame

in red blood like paint

and shattered hands

no one asked why

she told them as they wrapped her in the white

and tucked her in tight

-he's gone. the muse is gone.

and he wouldnt take me with him-

she started in white.