I claim I love a colorful world and live a colorful life, but I'm afraid to admit that I'm afraid of the rainbow inside of me?... I'm afraid so. Despite this, my true colors are exposed. But am I afraid now? Not when I think it's all just black and white. I'm gon be alright, being color-blind....I guess.

Antics? frantic for graphic evidence to calculate these acts, but acting scandalous when all the scandals start to be added with padded practices of trances, the romanticism of rants that's animated, and colorful to make the pessimism aided, dated to take effect when effects signal that the cause has laws of flaws, thawed through it's nature, artistic but not sophisticated, easily plagiarized, but cause I'm wise, I could never charge you, not cause it's hard to do, but I realize, it attracts eyes, lust if you must but never trust your ******, keep it inside, cause it proves it subsides, see it for what it is, not how you call it, more power to you, even if you don't resolve it.

     Help me dawg, I got caught up in this doggy-dog world where I chased away all the pussycat!. It was something I could've earned from the pussycat besides getting ***** though; the everlasting feminine quality of not pussyfooting when it comes to growing some ***** and letting it all flow, letting it all show, still be conscious though. That's my new m.o. you know. Let things come, show, flow, and go.