fingerpaint

a hurricane of self,
the blank, clinical remains
they yearn to be alive again.
so i seek, i play
with my artist's lust--
i see self, i see
fat black pens dragged over surfaces
incoherent words and syllabic pangs
vigorously, coated fingertips
smearing at their will
over eyes and ears
and their tresses, so easily.
my life's palette
no longer condensed, exuberantly
i plaster with my paint.
accompanied, a gleeful smile
my narrowed eyes honed to a point.
today i dance through shade and tone
and colour over being alone.