He takes his pencil and sketches
‘Til something starts to begin to make simple, rather suggestive sense
A breath, light aside manic, working for their absolute worth as t’were – boundless opposites do indeed breathe to attract, extract what’s artistically savoury
And transform the page to intricate brilliance
All from seemingly so nothing, soon as these vibrant colours do suppose to devotedly soar and pour – like clockwork Orange, and blue, and borrowed rainbow
Precisely instigated and all of this from tragic – magic which swims viciously, all too scintillatingly, behemothly even within
Begging to take seismic, stand – apart flame
And he sits on back, about to catch violent fire
