Storytelling.

I want canvasses littering my room fed by paint from my brushes and lukewarm water from my brains I want to see a billion stories scattered all about my walls and my carpet, and my Television wears a happy, painted mask to hide his blackness. I crave marbles melted into breathtaking glass sculptures, and these bodies would watch me as I saw them through my eyes I crave acoustic forests where I'll fall towards my husband and his earthen hands will catch me- He'll wear a happy, painted mask and every body will watch us lovingly lovingly lovingly.