.My mind keeps forgettinghow to breathe rightFor while others air goIn and outout and inIn a simple function of normalityMine falters a lot of the tim...Turns my voice into wheezing gaspsThe dead could speak better than IMy lungs squish into a tiny boxIn the center of my chestCausing a volcanic eruption of painIt is a very similar feeling to my heartWhich thumps and clamorsAt a speed unknown to humanityThe pace of a jackrabbit heartwhose cotton little tail's on fireUntil it simply feels like. It spoke to me. There was a word for it. I needed to find that word in the paint.I almost carelessly tossed a canvas on my easel, noting that it landed vertical. Fine. I clamped it and pulled my paints together. I couldn’t see the whole piece yet, but I could see blue—lots of ultramarine, fading to Payne’s grey. The extenders I used made it almost translucent. I scraped away paint from the dark mass and two faces began to emerge. They leaned toward each other, touching lip to lip. So lightly. More

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