I'm fading into a color that holds no symbol,
when You-a figurative artist look for signs...

Proudly ineffective;
worn like a stitch of old wool...

I tired the hours wandering
nearby saddened forests...

You are a complex of irregular emotions
trying to define yourself...

I'm unequal in balance, unequal for logic,
such a modern cut of seasons...

I may wear a yellow dress
to laugh at the mad waves...

It's a misplaced memory, a sick passion that
seeks the highest mountains to rupture at...

I love you, except that everything
I fall in love with is a fantasy...

I feel like a sad yellow,
that's dressing the moon...

My silence is too complicated;
my language is a difficult mess...

If I could be an arrogant wave
to wash your face off my way...

Captured by the sunsets falling behind
hills of your supreme eyes, I sink in the...