Tasting the Rainbow (poem of sorts)

Black and white -- are those the only colors?
Well, what about the others . . .
Like orange and green . . .
And every other hue in between?
And what about gray,
I would ask, if I may?
Is it quite alright to "go there," as they say?

Fantasy. Reality. Transiency. Finality.
Fleeting pleasure versus Eternal Pain.
Is one worth the other?
Is Hell really true?
How would I know
If it were really so?
Can I  tell from a look in a holy book,
Or some preacher's rules,
Or what's learned in school?

I don't know who I am,
But I know what I like.
I like COLORS!
Lots and lots and LOTS of colors,
Painted whimsically,
With or without a brush . . .
Just smeared on the canvas, if I must.

Stick figures may be all that I am capable of,
But that does not diminish my love
Of the rainbow . . . the spectrum . . .
The well that I'm learning to draw from.
No one taught me to draw.
No one taught me to paint.
So I'm learning by doing,
Or maybe I ain't?!

Sometimes it's a mess,
Just slivers and globs,
But that beats the shivers,
The memories, the sobs.

I don't want to live
In that dark room anymore --
Without pictures on the walls,
Just doorways and halls,
And a dirt floor.

I want freedom . . .
Freedom to be . . .
Freedom to try . . .
Freedom to fail . . .
Freedom to succeed . . .
Freedom to try and try and try again,
If I need.

I don't think I'm looking for approval at all.
I don't think I'm looking for pleasure.
I don't really know what I'm looking for,
Or even how to measure or describe
What I'm going through . . .
What "this" is all about,
All I know is I want OUT . . .
Out of the darkness,
Out of the pain,
Out of the memories,
Don't make me go there again.

Yesterday is gone.
I like today much better.
I like the sunny weather.
I like root beer floats.
I like fishing from boats.
I like mint chip ice cream.
I like cumming til I scream.
I like riding a horse,
I like riding a bike,
But riding a man --
I'm not sure if I like . . .
I'd much rather be ridden,
But of course,
All those types of "likes"
Are kept carefully hidden
Behind solid concrete walls,
Down the never-ending halls
In a securely locked vault
Whose combination is something that
EVEN I DON'T KNOW!

So where shall I go?
And what shall I do?
How do I know what is false . . .
What is true?

What is purple to a blind man?
What is blue?
What does yellow smell like?
What does seven taste like?
Why can't you cut corners?
Are sinners all foreigners?
Or are we all family
Just bumbling about
Trying to figure things out,
Doing our best
To pass some cosmic test
That none of us got to study for.