A dream of a rainbow lovefest.
Last night I had one of the most amazing dreams of my life.
I was a painter of souls.
Have you ever heard of auras?
The idea there is this energy, a frequency around us.
Colors, shapes, an outline of the real us.
A silhoute of our emotions.
Well, I could change them. I could alter the colors, blur the lines, make things bleed into each other.
I was at a party, using my powers to make money by causing people to experience drugs without risk.
Then I saw the pain that was inside of absolutely everyone.
Envy, the color of moss growing in an old, dead forest where light no longer reaches.
Anger, the color of a fire slowly burning out, an orange that hungers endlessly and is doomed to starve.
Hatred, a blackness that seeps into all the colors around it, infecting everything.
Mostly, these colors were just different shades of the whole loneliness spectrum.
There were so many. The finer nuances of self-loathing, the gentle hues of greed and hurt and the dirty bathwater color of disappointment.
It was everywhere. These people whose only light was in the drugs coursing through their veins, through the bass pumping into them, forcing those legs to stomp and hips to shake and arms to wave. So finally I decided to rewrite this dancing poem.
To make a masterpiece of souls.
All the cracks that come from abandonment, I filled with the sky-blue of hope.
Where there was disappointment, I scrubbed until I saw the pink of innocence and serenity.
But not the bubble-gum neon pink of lying.
The jagged edges of resentment I filed down into kindness.
I broke down the walls.
I coded them all with happiness and unity.
I couldn't color love. Love was a color that only happened when two auras synched together seamlessly.
So often that night, I saw people who were drowing in insecurity jump at the slightest appearance of a matching color. These people who let coincidence pass for love.
I changed them all.
I made something beautiful and bright and wonderful.
If I were to ever have a power, I think I would like it to be like that.
Yeah, I couldn't fly. Or move objects with my mind, or set fires or talk to fishies.
But I could make someone see how beautiful they truly are.
I could help someone let go of all of the baggage they carried their whole life.
Totally better, in my book.
I was a painter of souls.
Have you ever heard of auras?
The idea there is this energy, a frequency around us.
Colors, shapes, an outline of the real us.
A silhoute of our emotions.
Well, I could change them. I could alter the colors, blur the lines, make things bleed into each other.
I was at a party, using my powers to make money by causing people to experience drugs without risk.
Then I saw the pain that was inside of absolutely everyone.
Envy, the color of moss growing in an old, dead forest where light no longer reaches.
Anger, the color of a fire slowly burning out, an orange that hungers endlessly and is doomed to starve.
Hatred, a blackness that seeps into all the colors around it, infecting everything.
Mostly, these colors were just different shades of the whole loneliness spectrum.
There were so many. The finer nuances of self-loathing, the gentle hues of greed and hurt and the dirty bathwater color of disappointment.
It was everywhere. These people whose only light was in the drugs coursing through their veins, through the bass pumping into them, forcing those legs to stomp and hips to shake and arms to wave. So finally I decided to rewrite this dancing poem.
To make a masterpiece of souls.
All the cracks that come from abandonment, I filled with the sky-blue of hope.
Where there was disappointment, I scrubbed until I saw the pink of innocence and serenity.
But not the bubble-gum neon pink of lying.
The jagged edges of resentment I filed down into kindness.
I broke down the walls.
I coded them all with happiness and unity.
I couldn't color love. Love was a color that only happened when two auras synched together seamlessly.
So often that night, I saw people who were drowing in insecurity jump at the slightest appearance of a matching color. These people who let coincidence pass for love.
I changed them all.
I made something beautiful and bright and wonderful.
If I were to ever have a power, I think I would like it to be like that.
Yeah, I couldn't fly. Or move objects with my mind, or set fires or talk to fishies.
But I could make someone see how beautiful they truly are.
I could help someone let go of all of the baggage they carried their whole life.
Totally better, in my book.