Thursday, June 30, 2011

that day, there

gray
hangs down
from the ceiling
cloaks walls in damask
ennui

white
stares up
from blank pages
defiant, taunting, and impossible
frustration

black
beckons eyes
makes legs weary
blurs lines in shadows
fatigue

red
holds grudges
makes minds restless
sickens head and stomach
anger

blue
fills lungs
cools skin and
sky is again restored
air

yellow
stands prideful
demands constant attention
burns eyes and lips
hate

green
fills in
the spaces between
rocks and hard places
peace

violet
makes regal
the low man
builds upon him monuments
fame

pink
impersonates perfection
worships trivial thought
welcomes me to mimic
plastic

orange
ever-present
moves in circles
tints sky, eyes, lampshades
light

Monday, June 13, 2011

yours

months went by
and I said nothing
wrote nothing
did nothing

was nothing

but yours.