dark march. 15.03.10

i am a bit shy and i twirl the ring on my finger
holding words in my mouth like a fist full of vomit
ready to explode in tears running
down a hot red
face my
scab
throbs

a moon painting in spain.

and the she
gets uncomfortably close
colors blurring the lines till they
become muddy hues muddy uncomfortable hues
til one day she sees a light raises her eyes realizes
art is her meditation realization of truth of life of getting
back to real to feel to remember to forget she frowns a brown
frown at the colors she has made paints it black
starting from the neck of the dove who dared to
disappoint in hungry dark chocolate hues runs away
cries a glass of tears in your waterpark blues
homesick subterranean alien