Varying Degrees of Beige

Beige.

My world is varying degrees of beige,

an arid landscape,

burnt under an endless and empty sky.

The air crackles with heat,

sucking every last bit of color,

turning life against life.

I have become as prickly

as the surrounding flora and fauna.

Green.

My soul is like a rainbow,

longing to paint the world

in greens, mauves, violets, cyans, and oranges.

Beige says, “no!

your palette of self-expression is too bright.

Put away your tie-dye over plaid,

this blanket of mediocrity will fit just fine.”

Beige.

Punctuated with spears of yellow green,

hoarding colors and stabbing thieves.

Even the sun,

white,

bleaching all to beige.

My heart soars with the light’s dying exhale;

A periwinkle sky is painted in

goldenrods, pinks, reds, and purples.

Gray.

My soul longs for blue-gray skies,

filled with billowing pillars of white and gunmetal,

ripe with the promise of color.

The deluge whets my appetite for a rainbow life,

as foliage transforms into varying degrees of green,

crowned with magenta, lemon yellow, ultramarine, and heliotrope.

My world painted with rain’s lush brush.

White.

Sun comes back and steals the color,

sending me inside,

and reclaiming its beige domain.

My desert home fills with the multitude longing for beige,

they’ve had enough of color.

The horde invades with a hunger to paint

in varying degrees of beige,

squashing all dreams of color.

I hold tight to my rainbow visions,

knowing they carry me to freedom.