Prelude:
I am mostly yellow,
which means I’ve been pretending to be sunshine
for too long.
Beneath the gloss—
a trembling geometry of maybe.

Chromatic Metaphysics

Color is not decoration.
It’s confession in disguise.
Gold: the arrogance of optimism.
Pink: the blush of recognition.
Black: the echo of all things swallowed.
Ich bin Schwein und Oberfläche,
ein Prisma der falschen Ehrlichkeit.

The Pig Who Painted Its Own Halo

Once, I believed in outlines.
Now I melt them.
The eyes orbit the snout like small planets of empathy.
Everything circles, nothing lands.
Faith feels like wax—warm,
but not forever.

A Dialogue of Contradictions

Yellow: I am light behaving badly.
Pink: I am joy rehearsing pain.
Black: I am the pause after applause.
Pig: I am all of you,
and less than that,
and somehow enough.

Final Benediction: DADA in Gold Minor

Do not polish me.
I shine on accident.
The world reflects, distorts,
and still calls it beauty.
DADA laughs from the dark corner,
drops its brush,
and whispers:
“Even the absurd can radiate.”