Think I lack imagination?
Think again.
The many things I imagine myself to be
are as colourful as the language I use
to berate myself for letting these images run alongside me
more often than not
leading the way down a path
I shouldn't be on.
The space between us is imagined.
Or rather I imagine what fills this space.
Colours, textures
waves and surges
asteroides.
We negotiate.
Slide and dodge,
bargain.
Colours clash.
I'm imagining a torrent of
bright tartan and sleet
that meets
sandpaper gravel
and gushing pink and purple.
I know it isn't real
perhaps that's why I'm spelling it out for you
so I'll have something to hold on to
and you'll have a picture
painted in
unfinished sentences
that doesn't look quite the way it did
in my mind
but will have to do.
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