Colors

We just don't see colors, we do so much more with them.
Ever closed your eyes to really close them?

You see an iridescent net enclosing you, challenging you to stop it from shifting,
its weight about the infinity that your eyes stare at that when they close.
You wish you can see past it, red light, green light, speckles flecked with gold,
the world matrix, colorful.

Purple seethes over over me, a cry of angry red and soulful blue,
mystified by its keeper, a silver snake, slithering about my wrist,
it gazes at me, tongue flickering, releasing purple madness with a twist.

And blue alone, my blue, my everclear. Blue is the bridge, but not quite,
it is the uncertainty in black and white,
irregular, but just perfectly so, rays and rays of it,
wherever I go.

Colors are your brain giving your blind eyes a taste, of what it really feels like to feel;
To reel from sheer, dear sight.