timmy
Member
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oh, vincent, so far from truth
you were so far from truth
you explain through colors
how things are in your mind
how skin and ice or ideas
can be blue and brown, some
times red, how peaches speak
how love is a metaphor for things
sliding back and forth in your mind
your mind and body were warm
with life but your ghost is cold
oh, vincent, so far from truth
you were so far from truth
you explain through colors
those spider-fine ceiling cracks
how they thin like a map of Paris
a city where a stranger may touch
me that same way you touch me
i should paint, vincent, maybe you
can show me how skin and ice or ideas
can be blue and brown, some
times red, how learning the language
of peaches will be the closest thing
to the truth I’ll ever know
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