Snuffing Up Van Gogh’s Paint

Slouching on the stool looking up at the lights and my neck is stiff

My mouth’s ajar a voice barely escaping repeating

“There it is”

The nerves around my spine tingling

I’m swirling like a Van Gogh painting

Spilling vomit yellow

Porcelain wrists bent backwards exposing pale blue veins

There’s a tightness in my throat from forgetting to exhale

The brush handle between my index and middle digs in red

Irises here and almond blossoms there

Everywhere

All that’s leftover is the canvas full white