everything i do is abstract.
existing in thought or as an idea but not having a physical or concrete existence.
i am abstract.
merely existing in your thoughts, with no physical evidence of me being truly here.
these squiggles, these shapes,
they float within the dust particles shinning in the air.
these squiggles of my hair,
these shapes of my shape.
the yellow highlight of my happiness.
the purple outline of comfort.
these patterns of socks,
with black shoes to wear.
abstract as in not truly existing,
obstruction as in this obstacle of white paint.
the colored lines being made from my waving hands need to be painted.
the vibrant and mellow shades of the syllables that spill from my mouth need to jump out and splatter.
these sentences that sound cool,
letters that piece together the pictures in your mind.
everything i do is abstract,
pulled out from existence.
in another extraterrestrial pond of water.
colors that don't match, but look well mixed up together.
patterns of polar opposites, sew into the edges of each other.
they're just on a cloud of imagination,
simply existing in my simple thoughts.
not put on paper,
but on a canvas that's worth a lot.
abstract art.
shapes with no definition,
but defining twists, and sides.
no definition as in you can't quite place a name to it,
but the defining shift of their curves become their outline, their own meaning to its looks.
they are abstract.
merely chaos within abstract obstrustion.
the chaotic within my beauty.
the beauty within my chaotic.
i am abstract.

June 5th, 2019