It is
never enough
until it is too much –
want more, until passed out on floor.
No more
And your
eyes cradle such
contemptuousness, paired
only with the hypocrisy
you stow
Adrift,
sleep comes to wash away the day;
mistakes make paint for dreams,
coloring in
regrets
Only
then can I rid myself of the
crimson hue and crooked
brush strokes you draw
me with
Because when I’m freed
from your contrasted palette
my mind is at ease,
Now I find myself
staring at this blank canvas,
creating anew
© Steve Shultz and Christopher Rupley
