yellows

i need more yellows in my room,

something just short of fire

maybe i’ll buy some paint and

go full-on vertical Pollock

i’ll splash these walls and pull out

the chaotic gardens within me

    cursed be these

    sudden doldrums,

    always so

    unsightly grey

fourteen people walked by the

window, i kept the tally

fourteen times i prayed that the

doorbell wouldn’t ring

these are passing moments,

they usually are ( i’m losing it )

    blessed be these

    oscillations,

    never so alive

    in a grave

i’ll be a dead body for someone

to bury, find me a pretty field

with black-eyed susans and

buttercups, trees with canaries

the more yellows the better,

such a pleasant smiling color

    idle now, these

    limbic rituals,

    the cause and cure

    the same