Author: Dr. Stephan Pflaum

Prologue Elektro-Pastoral-Wind zieht durch die Borsten.Ich höre ein leises hum-oink, halb Frage, halb Erinnerung.Heute riecht die Gravitation nach Bleistift und Sonntag. Body I Neue Gesetzlichkeit des Tages:Diagonalzüge sind Flüsse der Gedanken,sie treiben mich hinauf zu den Ohren,wo Nachrichten aus fernen Schweineplaneten eintreffen.Magenta ist kein Pigment, es ist ein Gedächtnisfeld,das alles Vergangene rosa färbt.Graphit löscht Zeit, nicht Zärtlichkeit.Wer schaut, wird gezogen – hinein ins Rund des Rüssels,wo jedes Loch ein Portal ist. Body II Pig: „Wer… read more – weiterlesen Universe: “Magenta Snout Ascending”

PrologueI am the hypothesis in living color,a snout made of four questions.The weather smells like graphite and theory. Body IRed says: simplify, but faster.Yellow replies: define simplification first.Blue listens, patient as a comma.Green builds a frame for the argument,then leaves it open on one side.The air vibrates with academic sincerity —even my pores debate phenomenology.I oink in dialects of method and wonder. Body IIThe note beside me whispers:Der Versuch, Komplexität zu reduzieren,erzeugt neue Formen von… read more – weiterlesen Pigmentum Experimentalis Δ-14

PrologueI think, therefore I oink —but sometimes even thought is too loud.Ink is my mirror, and it keeps whispering back. Body I“Ya know… sometimes…” I begin,and the page nods like an old friend.Sometimes da world is not enough,sometimes it’s too much —I exist in that oscillation,between scarcity and overflow,between snort and sermon.Each line I speak curves around my skinuntil words become wrinkles of being. Body III’m too much for the world around,and not enough for… read more – weiterlesen Conditio Porcina Ω-22

PrologueI rise from the hush of graphite storms,each line a guess, each shadow a breath.Silence smells like paper about to answer. Body IHere the laws are simple:shade is time, contour is confession.Every mark remembers a hesitation.The world hums in monochrome intervals,a symphony scored for smudge and sigh.My eyes keep the horizon folded inside,two small moons in a trembling orbit.If you listen close, the pencil is still thinking. Body III am drawn and withdrawn at once—half… read more – weiterlesen Graphit Oink Theta-5

PrologueIn the violet dusk I glow,a filament of thought wrapped in fur.My breath hums turquoise at the edges. Body IElectric blue leaks through my skin,each sigh illuminating another version of me.The world crackles in empathy:paper burns without fire.I am the transformer between sadness and sparkle,my snout translating frequencies of maybe.Gravity hesitates—deciding whether to hold me or hum. Body IISometimes I believe the light is inside the graphite,waiting for a kind hand to release it.Sometimes I… read more – weiterlesen Aurora Oinkalis β-29

PrologueA stem divides my face.Between petals and snout, I practice invisibility.Graphite hums: remember the vase, not the viewer. Body IThe bottle holds its breath —a vertical throat of reflections.I hide behind the flower’s logic:to bloom is to pretend at permanence.The glass forgets which side the air is on.You see me through me,pig and petal folded into one transparency.The world is a sketch that refuses to dry. Body IIThe flower trembles: who’s blooming whom?My snout answers… read more – weiterlesen Floroporcus ν-13

PrologueI live where color forgets its confidence,where red turns to sigh,and graphite rehearses forgiveness. Body IThe world leans left in sympathy.Light hesitates on my snout,as if deciding whether to stay.I carry dusk under my skin,and each contour hums a lullaby in reverse.Brown dust settles like an old secret—it knows what I used to be before paper. Body IINo one draws silence, yet here it is:wrapped around me like unfinished thought.My breath circles back, erasing itself… read more – weiterlesen The Quiet Gradient of Oink

PrologueI speak before thinking,and the ink forgives me later.Reality smells like a burnt subtitle. Body IMagenta hums beneath my skin—a cheap neon heart beating backstage.Black letters rain from the top margin,each one heavier than the last “bro.”They pile into soft despair,a pile I nap inside.Every oink now means help in lowercase. Body IIThe world misreads me as punchline,but I’m really an open bracket without closure.My script keeps rewriting itself in marker fumes.Sometimes I improvise consciousness;sometimes… read more – weiterlesen Monologue Pig in Rough Saga

PrologueI live inside the half-light,my breath a circle drawn again and againuntil it forgets where it started. Body IEvery line remembers its failure to stay sharp.Shadows teach me patience,how to whisper in graphite dialects.The page holds weight like a confession,each curve of my snout a question mark in slow motion.I stare forward, not searching—just existing in smudge.Somewhere, the pencil trembles with empathy. Body IIDarkness is never empty; it just moves slower.I sink into my own… read more – weiterlesen Umbra Porcina δ-11

PrologueI open my mouth and a spiral answers.Color becomes tongue,line becomes echo. Body IPink insists on volume.Black conducts the melody—each curve a bar of silence between breaths.My nostrils are twin speakers of improbable truth.One hums low: remember.The other cries high: reinvent.Between them, air flickers into rhythm. Body III am sound trapped in pigment,a vowel painted mid-flight.The corners of my eyes rehearse applause.Every reflection sings back a fraction of me.If you listen close, you’ll hear the… read more – weiterlesen Singing Snout in Gamma-92