Getting to the Bottom of the feed

1.

When a smell resembles a moment in tone and hue

dissolve at grey matters recognizing

sends one grasping at association instead of enjoying the capacity

Realizing empathetic moments are drenched to drowning in color but never the same ever

and to try to grasp even a drop denies its lucidity with selfishness.

Existing at the center of an ignored sun rise because it resembles the moment it sets

and smearing the vastness of time to an inexperienced memory as common as a day is long holding fast to another procrast toward tomorrow

It will not be the last time colors were forgotten and quickly replaced

forged by reason to a less ecstatic esthetic

Getting to the bottom of a feed I continue to often ask

and will leave a question to energetic systems when I can no longer ask what essence was it that time was of?

The answer for my moment at hand seems to be a full spectrum in essence speculation toward a frequential hue in singular rarity.

2.

Maybe a shifting red to violet redemption that glows based upon a concept of perspective reverberate down to the low and beholden

scattered to change the nature relight until the dimmer burns out

Never to color perceived moments again with conceived emotions

as we prey towards the overlapping stacks of chroma collected light

to burn up from out and on through

beyond 432Hz’s measure.

In and back out through the Iris

is an awakening of a figure in the reflection

of lens based medium brushed upon a taken away dimension the recognize

the shape

an every toward

any conditions of human

with a gaze back colorless again

Understanding a colors frequency has a cymatic geometry

that calls to mind the dimensions of a flower

does not chase its emotional prowlist from the same mind of understanding the probability of its simulation in search of nano comfort within new paradigm

Looking into a mirrored stroke

beyond the eyes and pilthering

through the shades of simplicity

that a condition of human has filtered to become.

Understanding, forever spooning

out of time projection

Color is a bouncing refractory through the end of a parallel moment

to the end of the all I knows

and experiencing from inner space

a projected consensus still lies unique at all scopes essence.

3.

The color of human in this realm always reeks of complex proteins

over acquisitions and reason.

But dissociative color taste like iron all thick and red to black

until a unsaturated grey bleached laughs at the flavor of tears

coloring and distorting scenarios as trite as a track meet

seem to perfectly repercuss that the humane in this situation smells like it is colored with the iron of blood and the proteins of urine all egg tempura and opaque.

The anything color of a transparent tear distorting like a lens

the action that called it fourth

colored by the same surrounding scene taking place

and the tones, tints, and hues are suggested by the shade of emotion in which dilated to focus this surrounding occasion within its own drop brings to question;

If the drop is a frozen in time stroke of clear paint as if it were a brush mark textured lens

to the moment of view on mirror

reflecting and distorting all colors that pass

what tone is urgent in such a conceptual clarity.

4.

Distorting the world with a transparent viscous lens

creating mirrored brush strokes that reflects a perception of an, "Abstinence of color makes a mind go fondle”

Visually fooling around through a lens that has distorted the observing reality

due to the viscosity of colorless clear medium from a caressing paint brush,

its eye for an eye

with eyes of filtered proteus effect ad nauseam from any and where depths of reflection.

Jolly as a rancher the Honey flow refraction

through hexagonal lead light meniscus

is the result of a confectioners reaction to 2.3 million friends

in a mutualistic relationship with flowering plants and feeding on unnatural colors.

A sensation of being a chromakey green anything tone or the same to-be-key-d upon by you in the screen light whose cold blues burn when eyes fade from Blue to Red

listening to the melodic array of emotional flesh tone

that resonates the human sanctum sweep

from 432 Hz to 768 and back again as the word becomes frequency within a 100 year moment of mirror neurons remember

to make a new love with each other,

tones generate convulsion not just for the fall

Like in a film where only the angles recognize the camera lens

we search for color in reasoning to make it concrete and solidify the ethereal moment with color, Yet another vaporous imagined.

5.

Getting to the bottom of my feed I search for the saved answer to,

what colors echo the tone of this poem?

Maybe a shifting red to violet redemption that glows based upon a concept of perspective reflecting down to the low and beholden

as in Polychromatophilia a multi lettered love maker

concealing the curve,

as red blood cells slide up the charts to a veiled Sahasrara from acid and micro lens.

The all of us have been scattered

to change the nature relight

until the dimmer burns out,

never to color perceived moments with conceived emotions again.

May we prey towards the overlapping stacks of chroma collected light to burn up from out and on through

beyond 432Hz’s measure.