Painting my ceiling

Sometime with my grey thoughts
Sometime with sonorous music
Vigorously slashing colours:
Black white and blue,

Ten reasons to die; one to live
hanging on both corners
almost impossible to distinguish
Which one is who,

My white dress lost its essence
Maybe ceilings do have echoes
how do I erase unerasable now?
I despised the way painting turned out

Looks like nothing but;

a mess,
a mess that a artist would create
When his canvas looks nothing like,
he thought it would

a battle ground
where both the warriors lost
leaving abstract, questions, doubts
maybe this is how crimson hell looks like

a acceptance of homeless
with a home
where he realises the ceiling he is under
is not where he belong

a thirsty wonderer
in the desert : finally took his map out
and grasp out loud
all this time he has been travelling in wrong way

The anger, the rage, the hatred
Its all there : scattered