When I am at the bottom of the sine wave, I paint with the blackest black found in the deepest caverns when the headlamps go out and only sterile water drips.
I paint with blue like the sound of Patsy Cline walking around at night, making your chest ache.
I paint with browns so rich and thick that your feet get stuck and you fall forward, buried up to your elbows in primordial ooze.
I splash on just a little bit of red to remind you of when you skinned your knee on the playground at school and it stained your new white knee sock which now had a rip in it and you limped the rest of the day.
I dive down into the depression and find a velvety velveteen purple like swept the sky the night you sat on the hood of his car and he wanted his senior ring back and when he slipped it on his own finger you could feel its weight in your throat but your hand felt like it was no longer alive.
I finish up with a gray hand wrapped around your eyes, obscuring the sun and the joy and the glowworm that will light your way back if only you can keep breathing.