Colorless Flowers

for even 
against fading sanity
we are willing to
adorn ourselves
with polished veneers
the troubled smiles
of a comatose existence
swimming upstream
against
currents of despair
fleetingly clutching
the soggy riverbanks
of reason
delirious with laughter
as we lay, exhausted
among
cadaverous flowers
growing in the garden
of self-contempt
shivering beneath
light-devouring shadows
lurking, impeding the sun
as we ask ourselves:
what’s the point?