There’s a happy yellow and then there’s the yellow that floods your vision during a panic attack.
There’s the bright sunflower yellow,
And then there’s the bright fast food lighting yellow that reminds you of cockroaches.
There’s the difference.
There’s the yellow you see when you remember happy times.
Then there’s the yellow you see when you can’t breathe and everything’s too loud.
There’s the yellow of the stars on your baby blanket,
And there’s the yellow that’s stained on the backs of your eyelids.
Sometimes there is no public restroom yellow to be seen anywhere,
but somehow you spill that disgusting fat yellow grease on the picture.
Somehow you spill it all over and you dye the picture grease yellow with your shame.
Sometimes everything is in that beautiful pale daffodil yellow,
but it only takes one drip of that yellow grease
and it spreads and it spreads and the whole album is ruined.
Sometimes you spill it all over yourself and you just soak in it and you hate it but you’re engulfed.
Completely and utterly drenched and you absorb it like a 3 year old sponge with all the corners missing.
And then you accept that you are that wretched, repugnant, repulsive yellow.
Poetry