Colors are all I see in my infancy, blooms and balloons, a party, and me. Crawling, and my evil little body twisting and manipulating my will to feel things, outside everyone's lies, I cannot see, no more red and yellow, or anything, a world around me in darkness and impossibility.
Childhood, walking, glasses for me, I can see, people are demons, and I am not the same, I analyze and have a horrible mind, I have markers, I write strange and sweet words on the walls, I burn dollhouses and decapitate dolls, I hiss and try to smother my sister, and everyone gets mad at me, I cry, and they feel my hatred, I bend their will and they do not embrace me. They send me to therapy, and it rapes me, it cannot fill me with hatred, I am full of this, a sickness that lives in me, from infancy.
Adulthood, bitter and glasses too big for me, I see colors and people are strange to me, owls and orchids, explosions and cannons, fire, these things trouble me, I smoke, and I taste my mind, it's terrible, a living thing that is not me, my tongue purple and bitten, my teeth broken, raped and tortured, I am trapped in this, a car wreck, bathing in silence, bruised and the red ribbons and silver spirals of clouds, black and caramel, bright white lights of hospitals, illness eating away at me, I can see above and below, I reason, I plead, God speaks to me, demons live in me, I hatch them, their infancy and childhood hates me, the estate and paradox of imperfections, an egg yellow sun, and I wonder what it's like to be human, no one treats me like one, I imagine this is all for a reason.