A Self-Coloring

The color of blood,

of life,

The instrument that carries oxygen

through my body,

in and out of my heart—

Red pumps and thumps,

Sometimes it even humps.

It is passin’ on like a voluptuous fruit.

Mine pumps from a beast—

four hooves, a mane and tail,

the too familiar (to me) neigh

Living deep in a bright red liquid.

Burnt

Out.

I quit

And blended.

Thus ending into an old crispy orange peel.

The center is gone; there is no tartness left.

Too crispy on the edges, a hint of mold.

Warped on the skin

Peeling into leather,

Soft in the center

Turning into a pale

Barely ripe banana.

My skin is no longer flushed.

Hues from the sun pierce it

Filleting it—

Making it new

Flesh

That will eventually

Transform

Into skin again.

I arrive at my destination,

minced greens wave across the land

covering sand that meets the ocean.

It is a blue like I have never seen before—

Mixing together mint , teal , and turquoise .

Each mixture is greater than the last.

The waves here repeatedly envelope the water,

Opening and closing

Offering and dismissing.

It is mine to take or leave.

As the day dies down

All the colors come out to play

together.

A plum in the sky

Is smashed and smeared across

The landscape.

It does not end at the horizon.