Metamorphosis in Monochrome

I am no longer the man you used to know
I listen to Jazz these days,melodies at odds with my own
I cosplay as ugly ghosts in folk tales used to scare kids
I have returned to renewed waiting
I have developed a habit to kill bits and bobs of the remnants
Of our memories every night,as I ballet to Nat Cole
All my myself
I spin with phantoms,till I groan from my toes
I waste away beautiful songs
On boring whores painted in monochrome
I detail the rooms that I live in,carefully
With photographs of rusting bones
Empty nights that stretches and stagnates
Frequent me by,every now and then Time relentlessly steals moments,
That could be ours,as I grow old
I sit by the window,to witness the dots and dashes of people
On the road
A blackbird comes to sit by me,and begins to sing
Within a note or two, I understand it is a prayer for a meal
On nights like these,I return to writing
I write without structure or meaning
I write to liberate myself from the guilt
I write to liberate myself from the identity I have developed
I write to unbecome yours
To unbecome you