Sometimes there are no words.
Sometimes there are no thoughts.
Sometimes there are no pictures.
Sometimes there are no feelings.
Tell me how to paint that for you.

What colors should I use, what brush, what paper?
Or can you even see at all?
Let me explain with this breath…
Stale, stagnant, warm, dark, real…is that poetry?
How can I explain something to the ground when I am a drop of rain?

Let me try again with this voice…
Hollow, ringing, shrill…that’s right.
I see that look, it resonates within you, doesn’t it?
You’ve felt that before?
Still a little foreign, let’s lay some ground rules.

Red is that feeling you get when you’re outside that fence, covered in
Yellow when you’re down that road, inside a
Blue new feeling you’ve never felt before.
Make sense? No, of course not, that’d be too easy.
But you catch my drift.

Red, Yellow, and Blue are that sensation of walking down a cracked, broken
Empty street on that night in summer when the moon is bright
Orange and you think you’re a poet.
Before you can paint you must have colors, right?
Immerse yourself in these colors...maybe you’ll understand the question I haven’t asked yet.

Who am I?
Who am I when I have no language to speak,
Nothing to go on but what I feel when I’m alone and unconscious.
I’m muffled and screaming and singing and crying and smiling at my pain.
But I can still paint.

I’ll paint myself Red, Yellow and Blue until you see my color.
The color I’ve been blind to.