Off to Belize

These walls aren’t bright enough to merit the musing

That being here is like living inside an aspirin

The variances from the kitchen to the bedroom are the kind of whites

Young brides compare

Eggshells to creams which describe, to me

the absence of any color with meaning

And dont attest to my absence of an engagement ring

But are more remnicient of the old trope, a mental asylum

I no longer strive to be transparent

To keep each thought and scatter it around the internet

As if I was spreading feces

Or hoard a plan to leave the country like constipation

Until suddenly, the truth pours out the day im scheduled to leave

And as im boarding the plane, i might get a message, a question

And my answer will be

I got tired of all the white and i couldn’t replace the paintings

Forgive me. Im off to Belize

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