Grey is a shade of colour blind that eats you from the inside out.
It devours all the primal red that your eyes would see in blood, until your arteries become a conduit for the flow of darkest grey.
Juice for an automaton, a number, a robot, an expendable piece of the production puzzle.
Next to go is the blue that would have given away your veins, now nothing more than a deep shade of filthiest grey, so close to black.
And so, they leave you… until the grass recedes into brown mud and the claggy soil is just another shade of grey… until the rainbow burns and there is only the taste of greyest ash on the air.
Your mouth becomes dry from the thirst for all the colours you’ve forgotten and all you have left is this grey.
Nothing can grow here in this infertile, grey earth. Nothing can take root, nothing can bud, because green is the colour of fresh, new growth. Yet, green is nothing but a concept here, in this baron land of grey, ashen, decline and decay.
About the Creator
Alicia Brunskill
Alicia writes about her experiences with anxiety and depression, teaching and learning languages, education and cats. She also shares her poetry and fiction from time to time.
Find her on Twitter: @aliciabrunskill
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