The sound of ringing bothers me.
Ding DIng Ding alarms.
Buzzing, high vibrato of urgency and responsibility.
Ring
Ring, hate that noise. Mornings
with the burdening reminder of another day.
There has more
weight. Ringing,
my alert, my scale.
Hard plastic gives, under, pressure of my finger tips,
pressure builds,
paint fills the palette,
surviving and spreading, oil woody and
pungent, brush has lifted, swirling it around
dragging down and across, to the side
and all over again,
the paint is mixed , vibrant
Explosive,
and I am in grayscale.