I started tonight. 


I started to peel the ache 


Like age old marigold wallpaper


Saturated with memories 


A strip would split into reckless rips, frustrating my finger tips


I scratched at the edges only to reveal chips of paint


Layers of coats, the wall kept warmer than most


Without art, creativity freezes and is called anxiety


What if doctors prescribed art for head trips


Getaway stay-cations with materials included.


Pick up your prescription from the art store.


It was when I stopped making. That's when this ache turned my pink--- gray.