this drawing of a tree
crude and uninteresting
hanging in the dimmest crevice of my skull
its insipid elegance a distraction
its crayon strokes leaking off the page
dribbling into each of my mind's long, drawn-out veins

my thoughts have turned to pure color
words have flown into image
all is seen
now that the bright neon crayon fluid has
dripped its way into my eyes
a world unknown will come
as will a self, alien and new
but all
               all
                       all
                                                                           is simply picture