looking around my room, I notice 20 something eyes and their uplifted corners, where the skins pinches together, and a smile forms upwards to the knots of their temples. My fingers pinch and pull their ghostly flesh, their smiles grow and shrink, but I open my eyes and find I have teared and scratched the surfaces of the 20 something photographs.

my thoughts are ventilating. they fart out of my ears and nose. I shouldn't have had that coffee because now my tongue is shaking uncontrollably and my pinky refuses to sit still like a good limb should.

lime green, mustard yellow, princess pink, elderberry purple, paint me from top to bottom. no, go ahead and drown me in the chalky and crayon colors. my teeth are beginning to taste like plastic and eggshells, collecting at the arching cradles of gum. so this is what it, being a kid, feels like? nibble a crayola stick, peel it and bite it. grind it between your molars. go ahead and suck the dye. shouldn't we all trust the label? non-toxic, synthetic colors, my favorite friends come in a box of 16 in this drawer of unlimited time, a ring of infinity.

what are your colors like?