PRISMISM

Voice makes me weep

Floods through my secret heart

Whispers words with inflection unimagined

Is a friend.

The light from the window

through my shades

flows over my body in

mystical patterns that

call upon gods who died

when I was not aware.

The boy in the next room

is but one of many that exist

all around me sitting naked

here on my bedroom floor

typing endlessly & looking back

later to see what today's inspiration

cast rainbow swirled

down upon my fever dream

confessions.

Is this art?

I'm not sure that I care anymore.

Honesty is all that matters &

if no one reads it

or if millions review it

I'm not ashamed or

afraid -

Only grateful for the light

that sometimes casts such

beautiful shadows into my

darkened canvas world.