the days that pass in a blur
of early mornings and late nights

my heart is a cold, empty room
and it’s hard to muster
enough strength to light the fireplace

effort
to brush teeth
to shower
to capitalize and punctuate

if you ask for a color
it will be on a spectrum
from heather to slate

monotone ticking of minutes
like a metronome
louder than the voices
of others around

takes too much effort to talk and understand

when sounds are grey too