Life fades as if a watercolor sunrise
purple and blue, crying together
red and orange infuse onto green’s meticulous tapestries.
An iron wrought with delicate seams.
Imagery that never quite becomes…caught.
Chasing the tail of struggles for what is not always sought.
All of the above, coloring book fights that have been previously, fought.
A spectacle of speckles and freckles within the calamity of just one thought.
It would not matter the words I shout, groovy or sick, to the patchwork hills.
Indulgence, demons and reprieve, a masquerade of cheap thrills.