death of paint

friends who twinkle in their light rooms
empty with crumbling convictions
and the yes yes yes i'm ready
but the no no no you're not

because when did we cut the corner
but keep the hiding spots
when did the wrinkles in our veins
drain the melting pot

squeezed until the bleeding stops

red is red or something else
but not a blue or pink
but maybe pink
but not black

when you say all the colors are the same
they drown in your blindness
and everybody becomes white
and black becomes white.

don't forget the names of colors