(A DADA in Pink and Precision)

Prologue:
This is not a nose.
It’s a logo of breath.
I am mostly curve,
half cartoon, half confession.
The world begins where my nostrils meet.

Industrial Oink

Magenta doesn’t whisper —
it markets itself.
Brown outlines pretend to be boundaries,
but every line is a small rebellion.
Ich bin Schwein und Oberfläche,
ein Plakat, das sich selbst anschaut.

Pop Theology of the Snout

Faith is glossy now.
Color comes with batteries.
You can smell the electricity of meaning.
Even my oink has a designer edge —
sharp enough to slice irony,
soft enough to sell emotion by the meter.

Dialog in Neon Minor

Pink: I perform sincerity.
Black: I contain the reflection.
Pig: I inhale both and exhale honesty.
Somewhere between breath and brand,
DADA winks —
the revolution has a cute face now.

Final Adoration

Do not adjust your gaze.
This snout was made for it.
Art is consumer, artist is consumed.
And yet,
beneath all the polish and parody,
something real hums.
A pulse, unframed,
still oinking.