this is in my manuscript

Be Satisfied

An acrylic painted dream I had,
One all saturated in blue,
To the point my mouth watered.
I saw myself the other day,
But I just kept walking the other way.
Maybe if it was yellow.
If I keep falling out of trees
The sky will keep getting farther
and all the colors will run together
and Holi won’t seem so holy anymore.

“The glass separates us”
is the common excuse
“but you no longer care I suppose”,
that one is all mine.
The hacksaw helps me play the blues,
And the rotting peaches keep me awake,
So the blue dreams won’t turn green anytime soon.

When everything dries I’ll walk across the water
with absolute faith that I won’t drown.