Colours
blending me now,
sensing,sending me,
how do they know
what I feel?

There are some words to describe what it seems like to slide down a rainbow or what corn hears as it grows in the field,
I don't know what they are,but
ask me how far it is far and I'll tell you,it's as far as the length of a thought.
when you think that you know, in the time corn hears the **** crow, that thought will be longer and further away.
I've never slid down a rainbow but I bet it is soft,like a hollow of hedgerows and the **** crows......doo,
and I will.

Still these colours crowd in on me as
If there's something that they can see
and I can't.

Perhaps I'm being fixed up to pick my bundle of sticks up and carry on,
red means I stop but then amber will pop up and make up the green in me,
seen in me,sensed all about and,
me,
often blind
cannot find the end of my nose but the signpost always shows me the way.

I will chop up the firewood to warm up the blood in me,
do something good for,
I am tired of this selfish destruct in me,while
empathy selfishly laughs at me,
it seems to be always the me in me that can't see the wood for the fire that burns in me,
I should try to be
something I am
something of a man in me tells me that to be free,
it is this I must do.
The **** crows and
I will.