Acid
Trip
It's
like an acid trip
I am very high from the painting
But very low from the loss of love.
How
can the lunas excite me so much?
And yet I am crushed
Because you don't love me.
Is
the painting merely candy?
Something to ease the pain?
What
happens when I
Come down from the high?
Each
work takes me higher
Then when I am done
Each dip, each pause in painting
Takes me lower into despair.
The
only break in the tears
Is the painting
Even then
The tears flow
But the colors draw me up.
What
will I do?
When there is nothing left to paint?
How
will I survive?
The loss of you?