Rainbows leak and soak up the paper, but when I crush it to a wet sop, it's dry as an orange leaf in autumn. Powdered rainbow falls like magic dust and I wonder if I’m dreaming. It’s the devil’s angels telling me that all will be well. And so, I let a rainbow fill my page up in the hopes of magic dust, but I dream again and there’s rain. My paper soaks, and disintegrates.
I swim in the water and majestically float.
My friend is a decayed body, and I’m a boat.
Rainbows, rainbows in my tote.
I carry papers out and let them soak.