mine, not yours

Darkness continues to envelope it’s sickly tentacles around your home, continuing it’s mission to further sieve out all trace of you and what once was. Extending it’s ominous invitations to further increase the looming gloom to blanket out any more dwindling light.

It’s moved out of those walls, swept the grounds around and now touched the back of your fence.

The back of your fence which is now adorned in beastly graffiti tags. Not of the artistic, Banksy kind but rather the indolent handiwork of bored teens.

Overemphasized and bland typography, bearing no substance what so ever and serving only as a way of permanently marking masculinity. A masculinity that I can not help but observe and compare to the current state of your home; dull, mannish and an obnoxious smell to boot.

The markings also serves as a cautioning; a stark warning that this place is no longer mine and never will be. Threatening and smothering what little hope remains within to set things right for you.

Now forever reminding me that darkness holds it firmly in it’s clutches; mine, not yours.

xxx

G

G2

G3

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