Scattered
Fleeting
Hiding colors in glowing enamel
Chant with me

The rattling carnival tongue paints endless backdrops
The knotted strand drops on the torn canvas of rhythm
Legs crossed, eyes crossed
Does it count like I count, up and down?
Can I count on you?

Refusal and urge meet in screaming inner dialog
Birthing an amalgam of conflict
Coming of age in the sublime inertness of ignorable furniture

Yes, fade from your undeserved foreground
Blend your cooling colors
Chant with me