it is about an opaque man
Occupied with himself and his choices
He is about to go burst
Before the arrival of his times
Much away from his original self
He is burdened by burning colors
Colors always brought him chaos
His pale pulses reminded him
He is about to go burst
In the heap of thoughts
He has played all his cards
In the vestige of a street
He has overheard all the prophesies
In the air of conspiracies
He has been through luminous times
He has seen the edges of visceral affairs
It is all opaque and sinking deep dense
No more vision and insights
From this fuming dust and dithering lenses
Now we know for sure
Even pitch blend blends better than his thoughts