Purple hair, purple jewellery, and clothes. Purple everything. The cross between male and female. Mixed in a painting *** with dried up brush. The coloured high of the ultimate low, for me.
It has caused me to see, beyond my own yearnings and see that of more deeply penetrating needs. Another living in my soul. Cruel to me. One I couldn’t have fathomed had
I not fallen, into the dark. To see, to need the pain and crush the happy thoughts. Crave purple things above all. Crave a taste bitter only sleep too long can create. Any creation is
hailed, heckled as the act of treason. How dare you feel anything constructive?! And hide in a corner till it’s gone. Till the thoughts vapor into thin air and nothing is left but empty blackness.
Stand up, failing at first two attempts, and gain the strength to not be ridiculed a third. Falling forward, hanging in mid air. The wood hits the ribs, and sharp pain adds to the blunt. The thumping in the words,
the washing of blood in the ears. The whinnying noise, tone of loneliness reaffirming this connection cut off felt from birth on. Never able to join the ranks of the careless. Whether one lives or dies. Afraid to live, stuck
behind a thick glass wall. Alienation from birth, being addicted to the dark. With purple hue. Purple ledged in the deep of my soul. Purgatory keeps a flame to warm my naked arms and legs. Huddled in the moist cold of
the hidden part of the mind. The most fundamental. Foundation to build a life upon. Not fully corroded but hole ridden and making for a perfect tomb. When life ends and you are left with the colour of both male and female the same. Colour