He dips his paint roller
into dark blue sadness
and splashes it across
the violet sunset
filling out the stars
that fall fall fall
onto great black umbrellas
the ones used on rainy days
except now the sky
is showering stars
so he tilts the cover up;
it's a world of white
unfilled diaries and
unspoken thoughts
slowly coloured by
translucent dream sequences
which disintegrate into
petals of deep burgundy
that used to be
pieces of him