i cut my hair

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I lay quiet
And dragged your presence into the room
When it washed over me
It washed over me
We transcended me
I seemed high then

Then I remembered canvas and color
I remembered black
And black and white and grey
Suddenly all there was 
Was the smell of burned maple syrup
It seems I fell then

August Against The Red

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Only for me, look up at the black?

Count by 1000’s as you brush your jaw.  Be warm?

When you kick up your legs and close your eyes, recount to me the silver you saw?

Oh say, did you find the quiet I lost as August echoed against the red?