Poetry

Pink sunglasses.

Loud screeching guitars.

Headache induced pain.

Fun for all ages.

Let me just turn off my hearing aid.

Colour

Upon

Colour.

Painting

A fall

World.

Strokes

Pass over

Strokes.

I watch my hands

Create something

I was not expecting.

In the woods

it is a fallen tree.

On the toilet

it has an entirely different meaning.

Scraping the butter

Before you can use it for your toast.

Leaving the pajamas on for extra insulation

While getting dressed for the day.

Wishing there was snow

So you could complain about it.

Realizing that all these concerns

Are petty when you see a homeless person walk by.

Wishing you could crawl back into bed

Not just for the warmth, but shame at your selfishness.

Lost in a daydream.

Working up an appetite.

Crying for forgiveness.

Flush with a promise.

Hope instilled.

Until tomorrow surfaces

and shows a new face to fall on.

You open the door.

Stare intently in.

The door closes.

You open the cupboard.

Peer quizzically at the cans.

The cupboard door swings shut.

You open the fridge door again.

Nothing has changed.

Same food sits on the shelves.

Magic is not real.

The fridge just makes us wish it was.

The light reminds us of our disappointment.

I choose to pick her up.

I choose to walk through the room.

In her fear my hand was clawed.

It was my fault.

Not hers.

Physical pain is imminent.

Yet, what destroys more cruelly

is the words that cut you deeper

than you thought physically possible.

Get the room/desk/tablet organized.

Then next physical items crossed off the imaginary list.

Look at the chaos left behind.

Give up and realize your brain can never be organized like a neurotypical’s can.

When the smell

exceeds your capacity

you know something needs to be done.

So out with the litter tray

and replace it soon with a fresher, cleaner one.