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.