So many thoughts.
So many ideas.
Yet my mind is blank.
Like a painting that hasn’t been started.
I want to be beautiful.
I want to see colours.
I want to bring light to this dark world.
But my mind is blank.
And yet it is racing.
I feel so numb.
But I feel everything.
I see what could be, but I am stuck.
I am happy.
I am sad.
I am angry.
But I am also nothing.
I am blank.

I miss the colours.
I miss the light.
I want it all back.
I want to feel again.
I want to fight.
But I am tired.
So tired.

When will I be painted?
When will I be finished?
will I be filled with light and colours again?
Or will I stay blank, and dull.
Lifeless.

I wake up
Heart pounding
Staring at a grey wall
I lay there in silence
A dull sting of nothingness
Capturing my soul
Eyes wide open
I keep on staring
Hoping to feel something
Alas, I never do

trust is something sharp to hold
for someone important
in a perfect world we'd never bleed over one another
chrome blades dig into each person
who lost grip with their loved one
in a perfect world trust would be dull
significance is in the blade
filled inside of the atoms
are the affections, promises and lust we carry
a perfect world is plastic
empty atoms
hollow and dead on the inside contain nothing
I rather take the blade than poison myself

Mellow sunrised.
The dew of the afternoon high light.
Paradise sunset.
Tuscany, Marigold, Chartreuse, Caramel.
Amber, Copper, Olive, Saffron.
Honeycomb mystery of rejection... or doubt.
Freedom sparks; feet and hip dilate and constrict; lips close to feel the colors and open again, blinking to suffocate the oasis into the dull reality of smog and soot, of cemetery.
The psychedelic picturesque star stares back, dusk-like fireworks of heaven gained and lost.
One second that sealed his fate.
Death will be hazel eyes.