The Canvas

I stare at the blank canvas in front of me
While I run my hand across its surface
Covered with ridges and bumps
Like the gravel under my feet
As I sink slowly
Slip slowly
Into a world of oblivion
Swirling in a world of grey and black
Seeing only shadows and darkness
While every splash of colour blends together
Forming a spiraling tornado of confusion and anger
The colour is just out of reach
And when I stretch my hand out
I only sink further
Slip further
While the tornado whips me around
Until I’m exhausted
And my hand drops
On the smeared canvas
The aftermath of the tornado