Oct 28, 2008

Painted

Pastel touches canvas,
giving light to shaded background.
I'm coloring myself unwanted.

Memory coughs down another lecture of perspective
and I'm ignoring it, blending grays away until
I explode; whispering bright patterns against the dull.

I live my pretend life in pretend beauty,
crying with angels,
dancing with spirits,
kissing pretty boys on their pretty mouths;
happily forever after into a sunset I painted lemonade.

My reds bleed to wistful pink mists,
my forest greens to neon envy.

If I painted reality it would be black and gray and
tears all over.

My mind is the turpentine to all my dreams