grey days

against the window lights falter
black and white musk
floods my frown.

a bleeding, beating hearts aflutter
against the fickle grey dusk
makes clear tears fall down.

in the silence I may hear a mutter,
empty souls of ivory tusk,
the brightest colour of brown.

windows crack against strong shutters
that bare hearts to an empty husk,
I must break out of this god-forsaken town.