I want to paint-

the whispering woods, trees savagely shaking throughout the sky, 

the pungent pine sap seeping through the shrubs as it travels deep into ditches, 

sparrows soaring through the swirling sky above towering treetops,

and a Greylag goose gulping down fish as the sun shines bright above an apple orchard spreading across the whispering woods.

I want to paint-

the taxis passing by like giant black beetles travelling through the streets,

the black and white crossings like a zebras back,

a cacophony of muffled voices as loud as a swarm of bees

and towering skyscrapers like giant mountains reaching towards the sky.

I want to paint the sound of screeching whistles blinding all ears.

I want to paint the smell of daffodils floating through the air across countless meadows.

I want to paint the taste of golden honey slowly seeping down a cauldron.

I want to paint the memory of Libey the cat lazily sitting in the warm sunlight. 

I want to paint the impossibility of space and its infinite darkness.

I want to paint the end of this poem.