Full of colours…
Metropolis Unhinged
In the liquid mirror of possibility,
skyscrapers melt into watercolor reverie.
A city untethers from its foundations,
each edifice a smear of remembered light.
Here, the sun is a pale ghost,
haunting canyons of improbable hue.
Orange screams into teal silence,
while indigo whispers to crimson.
Time becomes fluid,
minutes pool in cerulean puddles,
hours streak across an ochre sky.
The architect of this realm
is a mad god with a palette knife,
sculpting reality from pigment and prayer.
We are all transients here,
our identities blurred like rain on a windshield,
dissolving into the abstract truth
of our impermanence.
In this labyrinth of fragmented perception,
even chaos finds its reflection,
and beauty blooms in the negative space
between what is and what could be.
11/3/13
A rainy night . A neon pallet event that Paints the night before the clouds pass.
Metropolis Unhinged
In the liquid mirror of possibility,
skyscrapers melt into watercolor reverie.
A city untethers from its foundations,
each edifice a smear of remembered light.
Here, the sun is a pale ghost,
haunting canyons of improbable hue.
Orange screams into teal silence,
while indigo whispers to crimson.
Time becomes fluid,
minutes pool in cerulean puddles,
hours streak across an ochre sky.
The architect of this realm
is a mad god with a palette knife,
sculpting reality from pigment and prayer.
We are all transients here,
our identities blurred like rain on a windshield,
dissolving into the abstract truth
of our impermanence.
In this labyrinth of fragmented perception,
even chaos finds its reflection,
and beauty blooms in the negative space
between what is and what could be.
11/3/13
A rainy night . A neon pallet event that Paints the night before the clouds pass.