In nature
The colour black does not exist
Man himself invented it;
It pleased his eye
The density, its ability to swallow light,
Blacker than the blackest night
Darker than the darkest skin;
He made it evil
Made it sin
But always it attracted him,
The way it swallowed everything.

from sunsets to morning hazes,
we text from dawn to dusk and
set fire to time. we're lonely together.

it's three am and we're watching movies,
we talk more than anything and we laugh;
'baby, give me your heart ( aches ) '

high heels in my hands and smoke in the air,
we stumble through broken memories and
we set a flame the broken shards of hearts.

sunbathing on the pavement, bare skin
and hearts open wide. blue eyes on you,
you're my summertime sadness

Eight months ago a roll of expired film turned my whole world purple and I began speaking in rays of light instead of words.
And there I sat in amongst the thorny thistle mats of violet and green and silver-grey clouds
And I wondered how in this world of endless colour anyone could feel so overwhelmingly blue

But sometimes the blue absorbs you
Or you just seem to see the blue in all the other colours too
And it seeps into your purple world
And it seeps into your dreams and clings to your skin and seeps and clings and seeps

But blue has its place
Blue is beautiful, interesting, and full of soul and wonder
We have blue days just like we have purple days and orange days and gold

Sometimes we find someone or something that makes our blue days feel like spring
And together you sit back and admire the beauty in the blue

Or sometimes, most times, that person is you because at the end of the day you know your blue better than anyone else

So cut yourself some slack and love your blue

It’s just trying it’s best to be a colour and you’re just trying your best to be

Light and color come to hug me.
I’m bathing in a melting rainbow.
I am the colours,
And the colours are me.

Does love need a reason
Is love a gender
Is love a colour
I think not
Does love need to be explained
Why and to whom
To thirst for water in a blazing hot desert
In this place we call the world
Love is to the soul
Like soothing cool water to a dry throat
A sanctuary of the heart
Where hope endures forever
Like a volatile substance
Once love ignites it will burn for eternity
Burning like twin flames in an unyielding grasp
Nothing can divide them
When both hearts burn equally
Does love need permission
Does love need approval
Is love apologetic
Is love predictable
I think not

I've always liked the moon better than the sun.
I've always painted in black, not in colour.
I've always been a little hidden, never fully exposed.
I've always written, never said.
I've always been afraid of the monster under the bed.

You enter into the neighbor's room, clenching a knife cutting the morning light across the room. You are moving surreptitiously.  
There is a colour on the knife. It's colour reflects an image of you upon it. You look down at your body, and notice the colour reflects there too.
You notice there are two people around you, a male and a female, and their colour is yours too.

You taste the colour of death on your tongue, you share the taste with the people in the room.
You share it with the knife, you share it with the floor, you share it with all the neighbor's next door.
You followed them home, to share the colour with them..
The colour alludes you, it brings you a high. You like how it tastes to die.

hues of pale peach wash
the air in solar flare soap
cherry blossom shoes

Percy owned a big sword as tall as him and sharp as Hell
It was big and black and perfectly crafted
Just like something else closer to home
Forged in the depths of Hell by the best artisans
Now Percy owned the sword and he was boss
King of the block who nobody ****** with
He chopped off heads left and right
And lopped off ***** front and back
He gave neighbourhood defence a new meaning
His sword provided safety to all his buddies
Nobody sold drugs or stole cars
After meeting Percy and his tool
There was something about it
It was the length and blackness of it
Two attributes associated with something else
For even a BBC was limited in power and ******
When compared to Satan's own sword
Now in the care of humble Percy
Or was it the other way round?
Sword and man as one...