I make new hues from my blue
Grey seeping through sleeping skin
Wide eyed with the anxiety hard wired into
The brain that holds the home of a body
I can’t find a home in
Sickening stomach twisting
Sun through curtains you drape over my
Finger tips
Reaching out to grasp the colors I turn into
The pallet of my taste in people who will love me
It’s always the people who don’t that I
Turn into my home.
I think you are my worst enemy
If I could piece together the right words I might,
Sing you a song
Maybe it would be easier to understand
Flame to finger
Burn away the remembering
smoke leaving through windows
trace of yearning
to exploit the whispers that come from deep inside
I know you feel it
There is a fog that escapes from the wide mouth
Of a creature that lurks
Through the raw October air.
Almost obvious is the daunting manner of its complexion,
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