…is a metaphor, of course.

A canvas of glass called what if hangs before me. Through it, the world appears as it is, but I can paint over it and make changes. Make one alteration—remove or add a constant—and explore how different life in the world can be.

Now, to render this change. I dab my brush in one word. Like color, the word has a set definition, but it also has a feeling, a mood, a tone, and its definition grows with context. I sample other syllables, and when I find the right tint, I sweep it on the glass.

More colors follow, shaped into images that move and jump off the canvas. They form a hologram standing next to me, still hollow, still too easy to see through. To make them real, I need special paint.

I take more what-ifs and grind them into sand, then stir this with the hued powders of how and the juices of why. This textured paint fills in the world with history, culture, and purpose.

Leftovers sit in my palm, clunky and dull. My fist closes, crunches, and uncurls, revealing remnants and hints of backstory. With a slow, gentle breath, I blow this glitter of emotion onto the canvas. It wafts and whispers into the peaks and valleys, delineating highlight and shadow, just enough to enhance the tones already there.

The piece is as complete as I can make it, for the final ingredient must come from you—your interpretation, your reason, your imagination. Will you see beyond the lines and tones of a two-dimensional glass plane?

I kiss

your

anointed

head

a thousand

times.

Chew

both

ears

with

honey

glazed

kisses.

Rip off

the emptiness

clouding

your forehead

with my tongue

serving

as the

mediator

of love energy

transfered.

Suck your eyebrows

with lots of jelly,

as it drips

into your

eyes sockets.

I recover

and purge

your cheek

with more

of the same

nectar.

Sweep the

rims of

your hair,

till it dries

away your fear.

I only stop

when your

smile can't

comprehend

how deeply

I care...

Saved your lips

for the tough

test,

as I examine

your chin

and tender

breath

with

active jel.

Petunia

unzips

his conscience

by

embracing

the bolts

of electricity

surfinia

purple

vein

tempest...

Creme!

Creme!

Lonely, I yearn for it’s touch. I giggle as the drops dance along my body, sigh as they slide from upon my tongue bumping along the walls of my throat & flow on the river in me. The tears chew their way out, ripping the linning of my stomach. Coughing up chunks of blood & rotten flesh. Skin starts to bubble & shred unleashing the veins & organs to swing to their freedom. Slicing the tongue that once enabled a playground. Black serpents invade & spew from the eyes, nails & holes in teeth. Decayed phlegm ejects from the ears, nose & eyeballs melting away at what once was a face & body. Toxic waters swallow the being whole to become one with the river that flows in me.

I sway back & forth as I float along the water. It gently caresses my hair & dances with me acrosst it's vast body. No need to breathe as it swallows me & I slowly sink watching the sun smile & it's heat fade into cold & darkness. No harm, no fear. Just peace & silence as it softly lies me down at the bottom tucking me in with the blanket of sand & one last tear is blended with the paint of water.

I will smile like my job depends on it.

(It does)

I will say "good morning".

(It's not)

I will act professionally.

(And not cry at my desk)

I will remember I have it better than a lot of people.

(Gratitude check)

I will not succumb to the tears tearing at the corners of my eyes.

To the thoughts begging to be voraciously voiced in anger and defiance.

I will not hand in the letter of resignation I have been composing in my head since last night.

I WILL NOT QUIT TODAY.

I will thank you for any nice thoughts you can send my way.

I have been drinking like it's my job

Second

I think I was wrong about you

I thought we could weather any storm

I thought we could rise above any argument

I thought you were my soulmate

But I found you were insecure

Fearful

Jealous

Even of a game