True beauty is complicated.
But you know it when you see it.

It doesn't exist in one person, or even two.

Rather, it's a wonderful collaborative effort
That everybody pours themselves into.
It's a universal sharing of ideas
That can be given, not a face, but rather, a heart.
A SOUL.

And I don't have to call it out or say it exists
But you know it does.
And with every word each writer scribbles
They all blend together colorfully beautifully.

Because I'm already full
With the thoughts of her.

Lately, the colors on my bedroom walls
And the pastel shades on the bathroom stalls
Are floating off the surface and mix all 'round
But there's more to this feeling that only exists in sound.

Lately, as I walk on the filthy sidewalk street
The ground melts into a liquid that splashes by my feet
And the pigeons fly upside-down while singing their song
And sometimes I flap with them and soar right along.

Lately, while the sun may rise upon the cold land
I see no brightness on my legs or my hands
And if the moon should fall to the deep blue sea
It'll crash right down and fall along with me.

Lately, all the people I know and see are slugs
And my underneath skin is crawling with bugs
Should my hair fall out on a scorching overnight
I no longer can tell what's wrong or what's right.
For reality is bending at the tattered seams
A parallel universe only matched by my dreams
And the fibers of my core are beaten like a drum
With the sounds of my head making a maddened hum

So I walk upside-down in an ever-changing world
While my mind and my heart continue to be swirled.