the minutes seem holes
stretching between hollows of mist
and this seems to condemn
the moments passed,
the words spoken.

i can't go on like this,
caught between shades of grey
that swallow me
to shadows and doubts
i thought long gone.

i'd try to end it all,
to rip it dead,
to kill the other half,
voice from cold ashen smoke,
to fade as i once wanted.