No Life

I saw people with

No life about them

Hollow.

Colorless

Shape shifting

Rolling themselves in chalk dust

A chalky taste left

You can’t quite place

It’s pasty texture

Plain.lifeless.

But not dead

For even with death comes liberty

From flesh and wound.

A vibrancy digested to solitude.

If black be death

May it be the fermented goods

of time well developed.