The Colors on the Walls

What am I doing?

What are any of us doing?

Day in day out it is the same.

There is a difference between being alive and

living.

So can someone tell me why the 

air I breathe feels stale.

In, out, in, out.

My heart beats evenly as I 

stare at these white walls.

Math equations and vocabulary words

running through my head on an

endless loop.

Think harder, I have to remember...

but why?

And in that moment of hesitation

it's gone.

All of the things I thought

I had to know

are gone.

The train of persistent knowledge

pounding into my head has

been derailed,

and I am left with a paintbrush.

I walk to the white walls

with useless trivia and derivatives

that my teachers said I needed to learn,

and begin painting over them.

Now the corporate machine is pissed,

and the doctor keeps telling me to take my meds,

but I haven't been taking those pills for years.

I finally release, and paint what my heart has

wanted to paint forever.

Goodbye logarithms.

Goodbye stoichiometry.

Hello art.

Hello Music.

Hello Me.