Picking paint

Picking paint of the scarab, munch on cherry blossoms and grass.
Smelling mulch eating it in, pain in my lip from, sure lip mulch.
(Inside my head feeling anxiety about being alive.)
Picking green paint of the scarab, just being alive, wind blew bly, blue bly
Wana be at the bench without his aching head.
Smushing thoughts roll through the broken baskets
Roll-lolling tongue of feelings in my body.
Autan starscape warm tongue of thought…