Beautiful Disaster

What do I need? I need to be noticed. Wiped out of the fog. Cleared out of the haze. Standing in the middle of the room covered in colors, but filled with shadows. Dancing to a song that makes you laugh and that makes you cry. A solo dancer, a spotlight shining on herself, telling a story though the movements. Alone on a stage. Moving through what needs to be expressed. For everyone to turn, to look, to notice. You see the plastered face, but that is covering what is underneath. The abstract, dazed, dark and light mixutre of mud and bubbles, fizzing down the long, peeling neck filled with lipstick stains and infected cuts. The body with frail fingers, a strong core, but green phlem seeping from it’s stomach. A heart green with envy and red with affection. Yellow with content, but black with complication. Pink with care, but purple with obsession. The figure dancing, perfectly complicated but far from complete. An utter mess, and a perfect composition mushed together, abstractly organized. A beautiful disaster.