Rainy Sunday (Happy New Years)

Sunny rainday;
Two syllables swapped make as much sense as they should.
Clear air, cloudy with the chill as water falls on your back
Lives with an unapproachable feeling.
"Butterflies are moths"
I used to tell myself over a cup of frigid tea
Looking over the white porch, across a damp lawn, towards a slick road.
 
It used to be warm
On the hot days.
Now it's just stifling and I can't breathe without the ice
that's been around long enough to deaden my sense of the cold.
 
It's dark too.
There aren't many colors out of the grey.
Maybe the orange glow of streetlamps bright at two a.m.
Shrouding any glimpse of the stars
Can get my color back.
 <->
"Feeling feels good,
That I know.
Beyond the horizon that's coming in 'just five seconds',
the hunger that's never satisfied,
and the dreams that dare to dream when I fall asleep. "
 ---
"I've always been a glutton.
I eat too much, I sleep too much…
Yet I'm never full.
"Too few colors, Too little description."
A painting worked on for twenty years doesn't so much as skim the topsoil of the art I've eaten.
Yet.
It's just as beautiful.
It's just as gold and crystal, rich as gems and silver, as any one thing I've had."
 ---
"A meal is complete in one dish.
It means that everything you need can be contained in one recipe.
A story must be complete;
A piece of art must be considerate of its details;
Your words must be finite, restrained and hold all the meaning you mean it to."
 <->
I think too much for such a meaningless picture.
At the end of the day it's just a street, a cup of tea, the rain, and some grass.
I'm just on the porch watching.
And I don't plan to do anything.


ISA