Fluorescent Decay

I like to dream everything in neon

And smoke weed to keep me turned on

Plug me in, and allow the electricity to flow through me

Watch my colors light up like a christmas tree

I’m caught between orange and blue

Where I am not quite warm

And I am not quite cool

What is a gentleman to do?

That space between jovial and hysterical

Is the space where I dwell

I dream of pretty pink pastel pastries

Confectionary perfections presented in pleasantry paper packaging

Injected with toxic waste. And bleeding. Bright. Red. Blood.

I draw inspiration from the bloody rose

And the thorns it grows

I pull insight from the gloriosa lily

With its delicate petals and malignant poison

I am caught between red and green

Where the exterior is not what it seems

I enjoy the juxtaposition of beauty and danger

Reveling in dark subject matter painted in fluorescent color

My paint brush elongates my body

As if paint oozes from my fingers onto the canvas

The freedom to make my own determination

My canvas is a window, and my colors are liquid creation

God’s the game that I’m playing

I sincerely hope my imagination is entertaining

I want my colors to saturate

But also to cross-pollinate

I'm caught between yellow and violet

Where the butterfly becomes terrifyingly violent

It's fragile wings are just camouflage

Distracting you by crafting a deadly mirage

Yet despite my illusions and allegories

Fantasies and allusions

Reality doesn’t simply go away

Turns out we take ourselves everywhere we go, no lie

I believe in my King of Hearts

That I am a good person

But is there not something thrilling about flirting with the idea...

Of being the bad guy?

Maybe I’m stuck in the middle of black and white

Or maybe I’ve decisively found my balance

Because there is no light without dark,

no yin without yang, no warm without cool.

I have learned to balance the divine feminine and masculine

No I can’t quite say that I’m stuck

I’m learning to equalize my colors

But that doesn’t mean a bit of excess isn’t fun

Thanks for listening,

I think I’m all done.

I mean there was no reason to run…?

Stop moving and hold fucking still, or maybe I’ll have to tie you still

So I can paint YOUR colors. Just. Right.