windowsill wide I lined all my acrylic
paints in a perfectly straight
line with no intention of inflicting order (sorry)
I looked up to see the trees but the paints blocked the view
so I knocked them down, one by one, red and yellow, black and white
but blue, it's simply untouchable
like a fissure in my wrist I paint my
nails blue and I wait for the sky to reveal
who she truly is, instead of reflecting the water

as more days pass and you pass me by I find myself passing myself on the street and I can't look in a single mirror because I'm there every time, I beg the noise to burry my pulse but it's there underneath like a layer of pigment I brushed over so many times to
cover it up

it doesn't end until it's over, you can darken
blue, you can yellow it green and red it violet
escape it on a canvas, decidedly omit it
but it's with you, underneath you, inside you
blue, it's inescapable, buzzing between frequencies
alive but without purpose