Prologue
The air is made of violet noise.
Every thought hums in neon veins.
Yellow ghosts whisper: “Speak, but melt your words.”

Body I
New law: sound turns into color at the edge of doubt.
Every sentence leaks pink, every pause glows lavender.
The figure kneels to the frequency,
mouth half open, heart half wire.
A word begins—becomes a cloud—becomes a hand—
and the hand erases the face that spoke.

Body II
Pig enters with a microphone of mud:
“Testing, one oink, two dream.”
The echoes applaud in ultraviolet.
No one can tell if the audience exists.

Dada Break
Bzzzzzz—ink—plink—magenta—clunk!
Language slides off the table like melted sugar.

Closing
Speech folds into color.
Silence wins by glowing brighter.