Red – a color I cannot relate to my life but that’s where I’m at. Oh wait, I see a DIY red crown made for my daughter’s birthday last month. I’m not in a celebratory mood but I feel like shouting, jumping, closing my eyes, ruining things as violent as I can until I ran out of breath. Red is my mom’s favorite color, I dare not ruin that for her. Red are the slippers and rubber shoes I won’t ever wear. Red is the blood running inside my flesh. No open wounds but I feel them oozing. I see red everywhere now. Stop it. 

Red reminds me of Christmas. I hate the mindless gift-consuming and giving. Red are cherries I ate with somebody while on the way to the coast. Red are strawberries I ate while on another slice of the coast where once upon a time I felt myself yellow and gay and free. Now it’s washed over by another color. Red is the truck which just passed by so red must be the noise that bothers me. Time and again. My blood boils. Red is never gonna make my mind rest. Red nowhere and red everywhere.

Red is the Mexican poncho a lover gave me. Come to think of it, the color doesn’t fade. And the love that comes with it. Red disarmed me and bared me down till I could only see my brown skin. And now I see red – the color of my mens oozes and they don’t want to touch me. They dare not touch me.