melsku

you can imagine the shade of pink. can’t you? no. this nauseating shade of magenta is something much much much more magenta. i can’t show you it. nausea is an overwhelming feeling, there’s nothing to do but bite into something sour let the wave pass over you like a blanket of all the smells, feelings, pressures, touches that are overwhelming but somehow relieving at once this hyper magenta is so putrid that it hovers in between where magenta begins and ends, where nausea takes form where i refuse to stay for long i try to knock the magenta away, like the dust at the bottom of a cup i want to drink from the cup but the magenta doesn’t leave, it sits there

and it shifts around it’s realising it can exist in every kind of way, it can show up unannounced. at the corner shop i try to leave thoughts of a painful magenta behind

i buy something out of panic. the packaging is brown.

opening the door to the outside, i get knocked down magenta colours that part of the street it’s the part i connect with the least

make me divide my attention. magenta. brown. magenta.

like being the passenger in a car at night, the flashes of street lights briefly light up your face magenta. brown. magenta. brown. magenta.

through the window