My bedroom walls are pink.
Why don’t you believe me?
Am I a liar? White lies don’t count do they?
Its storied in IG anyway. Follow and like please …

But dear, oh dear, I’m sorry,
I forgot you are blind.
Why, you asked, do I want the world
to know my walls are pink?
Oh, its just so me, and isn’t being something
a thing in the world these days?

Anyway I'm your eyes in this world
If you can't believe me in trivials
how can I tell you of other things?

I’ve gone and done
something dumb
again
you can’t love me,
but what if
you do?
you look at me,
I *******
crumble
your eyes on me
making me
want you
knowing I won’t have you
probably not ever
now I’ll sit in my car
I’ll pretend forever
you want me too

You're blocked;
you're bugged;
your eyes stay screaming
but I can't hear a thing.

Wash through me like knees through mud
not yet caked over by the heat of the
sun; like you're looking for something
you dropped and it may soon be entombed.

Look at me as you would a tree
caked in mud.
          Name me by my leaves, or
                    my sinewy limbs.

You're soft;
you're coarse;
the lines that puzzle your face
make frowning silly, and small.

          Name me Steinway like the
               piano. Or Pecan, like the
                    tree.

Find me forward, trudging through mud.

I can see solid ground but my branches
can't reach to touch the grass or its flowers
or to smell the rotten-ripe crushed leaves of
the pecan trees.

Stick me where I'm stuck,
save the mud. Give my leaves
some snow, some lightness,
cold. Give me color. Paint me
in storm clouds.

I am devoid of something,
I am a void of nothing.