The Fear Of The Color.

In a different world each day,
within the matter of hours.
Running from black white and grey,
to blue, red, green, purple powers.
Skimming my pages, all written upside down.
Evidence of the chippy,
that I call myself not.
People do worse, a one person difference,
to the paintbrush we paint with..
When our dance is done,
the bowl of color ashes black and white.
Looking at where you came from,
two worlds together,
at once.
Of what to do with my supplies
standing first in line,
outside a ballroom,
by myself.

4/29/12
12:57-13:24