Prelude:
Good morning, soft apocalypse.
I am mostly pencil and patience today.
Light crawls gently across my snout,
unsure if it’s allowed to stay.

I. The Monochrome Awakening

No color, no drama—just hush.
Grey hums like coffee in reverse.
Lines wander half-awake,
remembering dreams they can’t afford to finish.
Ich bin Schwein und Stille,
ein Gedanke, der den Schlaf noch trägt.

II. The Theology of Pencil Dust

What is truth if not shading?
Each shadow negotiates its own honesty.
My eyes are parentheses,
holding what can’t be said without smudge.
Faith, for now, is tonal range.

III. Dialogue Before Breakfast

Light: I have returned.
Pig: I never left.
Silence: You both talk too loud.
And so we begin again—
this quiet choreography of breath and graphite.

IV. DADA Benediction

DADA stirs its spoon in the air,
adds a pinch of absurdity to the morning.
Nothing happens.
Everything begins.
The page exhales—
and somewhere in that soft exhale,
a single oink becomes philosophy.