Sanguine

I love your work,
how you articulate your ideas,
how you strike a chord within.
I adulate you,
I am your fanboy,
I spend sleepless nights
thinking how your work
ruffled many feathers.
 
On quiet rainy mornings,
I close my eyes,
surrender to the siege,
debate with you in my mind,
and I choose gray
over your black and white.
I burn.
 
In those blood-red moments,
I witness
my rebirth.