The Color Wheel...

I dreamt in Technicolor
and woke up and washed myself in alabaster
and stepped outside to the grey
I fight back the pinks and the reds
that swell up in me
These color masters have served me most ill
Born of fire and ash I was
and an empty pack of cigarettes
black brown tar
and laying there like a bottle of Jack Daniels
beside the bed
I try to dismiss the rising green
It mixes poorly with the blueness of my mood
but washes down more smoothly than the whiskey
Born of fire
washed with the icy blue of the wind in the morning
Grey steam from all my pores
Osmosis of my passion into...
into what?
I live my life like a Hello, Kitty notepad
and dream like a Scorcese film