HopingForColorInLife

Hands of entitlement Connected to minds that never wonder why They rip my bandages off Sometimes quickly Sometimes slowly You never really know When the spicy sting's coming Sour pomegranate seeds Falling And falling And still falling Leaving empty crevices Sprinkle some salt to fill the cracks Makes the taste less metallic too I need another piece of tape Fingers too numb Too clumsy To fit a delicate puzzle Back together It's fine like this The cold and bitterness Will go away After all Life's an acquired taste.

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Smoky soul spiraling From damp ashes Upwards To impatient storm clouds On a foggy day, Of misty rain falling On snow topped concrete Painting a slippery- Watercolour world Of careful tears From tempest clouded eyes Threatened by eyelids Close to collapse Sustained by cemented will Of a clutter of faces Dressed in neutrality With mouths exhaling Little wisps of sadness Of frigid hands Though loath to move Still shakingly scooping handfuls of The product of a colourless body With hair not yet completely aged And a sad fire Thrusting it over The reflection of a sleepy sky And into the wind Creating a dull and docile duststorm

dust bunnies in my head i cant seem to clean them up too elusive my hoarder's view towards them hinders me from vacuuming little white wisps stay grounded for a while so i can gather you up and create something whole from all you disconnected distracting threads of thought

you are like a song in a language foreign to me the melody alone has kept me listening i think of how the crescendos of the piano are my heart as i catch glimpses of your trumpeting existence and ive become acquainted with all the syllables and i ignore how awkward they sound on my tongue then even if i do not understand i can pretend i do (is that shallow of me?)

all the nights spent sitting in front of the tv trying not to fall asleep because what if i am not awakened by my prince all the money spent on caffeine to keep me from falling asleep because what if i dont wake up to all my problems solved i find that sleeping beauty was way too lucky

i leave my collar unbuttoned like an open invitation for you but you dont accept i leave too little to your imagination i wear turtlenecks and sink my head into them whenever im poked or prodded but you stopped seeing me because i hid too often i was much too enclosed in a shell i give up because i guess im not 'just right' for you goldilocks.

My science teacher taught me about bonding How covalent bonds were harder to break Because they were about sharing And because ionic bonds always had someone giving And another taking and taking I wanted to be a noble gas Because they were stable on their own My English teacher taught me That i had to be creative Inside a little box I had to follow distinct guidelines And create something original So i tried creating and overstepped a line or two I got punished and was re-taught to follow rules So i sharpened my pencil and began to write The story of a hero with a whole lot of might How he killed the villain and got the beauty And i got rewa

Hands, tear me apart. Rebuild me.

I like playing with Metaphors And Allegories It's easier that way Sometimes feelings are hard To explain And sometimes People don't care if it's Too straightforward.