Prologue

Color collapses into snout-thought.
Ink trembles like a half-forgotten name.
Silence wears lipstick made of light.
Everything is almost word.

Body I

Law one: Eyes absorb language until it squeals.
Law two: Pink means maybe.
Law three: Outlines refuse obedience — they wander home drunk.

I am the sketch between intentions,
a face both drawn and dreaming.
Each stroke a nervous hum of yes but also no.
Blue air keeps me afloat —
barely, beautifully.

Body II

The snout whispers to the void:
„Am I animal or alphabet?“
Void replies: „You are punctuation breathing.“
And so the line continues, looping into itself.

DADA Break

ink–oink–think–blink
blau schnalz pink pause

Closing

Paper exhales.
The pig stays.
Tomorrow’s grammar will begin again —
from this stare.