Can I withstand the world
As it quakes beneath my feet?
Back to back with constant corrosion,
In the face of impending doom?

The motif of my life is
greenish-purple, no-one
likes that color,
nor understands its
taste.

What can I contribute but,
my simple words,
oblivious,
well really not caring,
of the reaction to it,
that is, that I wonder where these words
will lead?