What do your dreams look like? What colours do they have?

Mine were blue and purple, until they became grey and black, until they became ash.

I wasted all my energy on chopping wood, so that I could heat my home that never existed. Instead, I should have been dreaming of the fire that warmed me up, that calmed me down. Now there’s nothing left…

Everything I’d drawn lies at my feet pretending to be a jigsaw. I don’t want to make them whole, though. And everything I’d created blurred away into a crayon smudge that I desperately want to get rid off.

And I’m still here… The waterfall is in place to drown me, choke me to death.

2 thoughts on “Crayon

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