Give me high resolution.

What of pixels I've had greyscale dreams, and feverish feeling, 
Only the heart and soul For healing 
Cut not pages from the book
I withheld a certain look,
I've had temperatures of cool mundane 
Just a paperclip to deal with pain,
But all the saturated light, comes not black and comes not white,
I've had darkness on my hands
And pink the ink with yellow blend
A spot of sepia copararent, i thought
It was to blend, yet the drops of magenta 
Replicate my known desire, 
Nothing but an empty cartridge 
Where the canvas seeks the fire.