Excerpt:
Purple took my soul. Orange stole the rest.

H2: Act I – Der Auftritt

I enter from nowhere,
half storm, half schnitzel of emotion.
The stage smells of paint and panic.
Black eyes blink like punctuation in a love letter written by thunder.
Ich bin Schwein im Zustand des Gefühls.

The brush didn’t paint me —
it survived me.

H3: Act II – Dialogue mit der Farbe

Purple: I want to be tragedy.
Orange: I want to be applause.
Grey: I am tired of meaning.
Pig: I am all of you — and none of you.

Together we invent a mood called Oinkpressionismus.

H2: Act III – The Collapse of Composition

The edges rebel.
Form melts.
Reason leaves the room, whistling casually.
Everything becomes heartbeat.
Every heartbeat becomes smear.
Every smear becomes almost beautiful.

Ich schnaufe, also male ich.

H3: Epilogue – Abschlussoink im Farbrausch

When silence returns,
it smells faintly of turpentine and revelation.
I am still here —
less pig, more phenomenon.
DADA calls it nonsense;
I call it honesty with claws.