Pale skin, melting down with tears of thought— too much thought. The colors created make a canvas no one wanted to think of but everyone wanted to see. An orange peel sunrise from skinned flesh, revealing the palette truly possible when forced to surface. They make a claim for themselves: necessary. It’s a must. There is no living in monochrome forever.
Category Archives: Poetry
Four Small Sprouts
In the tiny house
lay four small sprouts.
In awe they speak
of the three others
as the idea grows
that they’re inferior
to their equals.
Collaboration
A dancing marionette
Twirling from strings held high
Unforgiving
::
She swings and is dancing like
An artist painting sweetly
::
While I watch, gently weeping
At her imprisonment
Dancing alone
::
A single marionette
Now waiting for her hanging
6 Word Story
An unreasonable response to the answer.