I Am Color Man
May 25th, 2015

So the world leaves me behind and I think highly of myself enough to notice. Then
what happens?

If the idea is to irretrievably forget about making waves big enough to get God's
attention as much as an ant is humble enough to not remember it's own existence in
relation to the paranormal deities that are human beings who consistently drown its
dreams faster than the flick of its antenna, as they wash their extra-dimensional hands
over their galactic basins, carelessly thinking of their fatal crimes while simultaneously
finding themselves innocent, then what should I do to get my nosy finger out of what I
have arbitrarily claimed to be God's pickle jar?

What do I need to do to become, to fully embody the nature of my anthood?

What do I need to do to BE Action Manifest what I have manifested through thought?

I am tired. I am at bay.

I am happy. I am waiting.

Is oblivion here Trust in reverse then? Uninhibited acquiescence of volition closing the
hood one final free-fall time on one's maxim vehicle to declare confidently "Give it a go.
'Should work fine now."

There is an inherent terror in the start of an ignition I think; car hearing its sound
breaking silence for the first time. An inherent terror in the start of a recognition; a scar
hearing its wound breaking silence for the first time which I believe stems from the fear
of being found unwounded in relation to other scars.

But the wound of Life is universal. So cheers mate to cheekyness!

Neither a giant nor an ant or a god or demon among the spectrum of beings known to
me, I am merely organized chaos hue-man.

Only, my struggle is accepting that over desperately petitioning to be hue-superior flung
high from the rainbow by The Artist's brush to become the colorful arrow that pierced
God's heart.

With Love.

With Art.

With the unexpected humor of Life.