Life swirls into a colourfull blur. Blues, reds, greens. Black and white mixing together into a monotonous grey that covers everything. Brief swirls of bright, luminous colour jump out at you before fading gently back into the grey existence that hums away in the background.
I make a break for it. Only to discover that there is no edge. Just swirling colours, slowly conforming to an observable mean.
I hide under the cover of drugs. How comforting it is to see the rain falling around me, wet and cold. I have a shelter now, warmth, food. But as I watch holes appear. I stuff more drugs into the gaps and settle back into the warmth. But it is not as warm, my seat is not as comfortable, and already the leaks are starting again. There is no solution here although it is tempting to think there is.
And so I sit here, old hopes and habits dying slowly before ever darkening sky. There is a certain beauty in the process I find myself in. It can not be described in words, although god knows I have tried. Perhaps I will yet survive. It sadly seems unlikely. But I toil on, colours running in circles. Blending to a uniform grey. Yet within that swirling mass I find patches of pure, beautiful colour, and spectacular hybrids that sing of infinite possibilities. They point to hope and forgiveness. Certainly these are not things I am going to ignore.
You write beautifully, Jerome. Have been thinking of you often. xo