This body does not seem as young as it used to, it appears to have been injured in the night. I part the lids of my blurry eyes, I am awake, or as awake as I ever have ever been.
What is this day? How shall I color it? For color it I shall. I have a rather large family here, though I know only a few.
They are men and women of all the shapes and sizes, tones, attitudes and dispositions, some of them mean me true harm, most do not.
I have many thoughts and many worries, some of which are true. The sun is not yet up or perhaps the horizon is not quite down, I begin and end each day with such verisimilitudes.
In this moment the city lights are spread out before us as glittering gold on an endless beach of magic and riches, it is vast and it is beautiful.
A naked man approaches the families on the playground, he is lost in all the ways a man can be lost.
The chemistries of the conduit of consciousness so delicately placed within him have been played with carelessly and broken. The police will be here soon.
My peerless eyes forever gaze on a stoplight perpetually bright red, the red of fury, the red of the visage of a woman who is at the end of her wits, the red of blood,
the red of a blazing sun far, far away,
the red of passion, both for those that make me scream with rage and those that make me weep with the deepest sorrow and those that make my heart sing songs to shame the nightingale.
It is always red, forever red, endlessly red, painfully red...
...or is it green?