My Life in Technicolor

Because
my mind is a
purple haze,
I view the world in
spectacle-vision.
No putrid browns or tans
for me—
the colors of
the monochrome masses—
but reality awash in a
pastiche
of psychadelic
possibility,
a rich mosaic
of popsicle pinks
and frothy waves of
vermillion….

The hueless ones,
with pasty corporate countences
and grey flannel underwear,
would drain my pallet
of its most vibrant shades
until my blood runs clear
like tepid
tap
water.
But I will never inhabit a
square universe
with whitewashed walls
or live a
flat
desaturated existence.
Much better indeed
to dwell like one of
the great ones,
who burn out fast
but spend each second
coating the earth
In their own
rainbow perfection,
determined to add
their own little splash
of vibrancy
to this drab reality.

So
when the time comes
to depart this life
let me do so
in a roaring blaze of color,
like a napalm flare
scorching the earth
in a fiery orange conflagration,
rather then burn out quietly
in a off-white,
smoky
pooooof.

There is no genius
in subtle configurations
that soothe the mind
and no great art
in dainty daubs
of tranquil banality.