The Grass is Black/The Air is Pink

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feel me/read me/follow me

W.U.I. of Tiredness

“I am yellow. I am yellow. I am yellow.”

Every morning, I say those three
words, that make up the sentence, that
I repeat, three times. Trois fois. My
nights are insomnia that become midnite
with some brandy and turn into early
morning (the beginning of beautiful
manana…) with coffee

So, I repeat…’I am yellow. I am
yellow. I am yellow.’

I can not watch ‘Orphee’ again…
Je repete…

My phobia of the bent spoon is
making me anti-social and
hypocritical and homophobic…God no!
Forbid! Anything but those three…
but then again, I’d paint my
box pink…

‘I am yellow. I am yellow. I am
jaune.’

Who the FUCK is John?

Reading into the wee hours with
love on my brain and tea on my
teeth…Changing but still not
changing…Waiting for signs of
life.

I am yellow. I am yellow. I
suis jaune.

I am yellow. I am yellow. Je suis
jaune ou verte ou bleue ou blanche
ou noire…

written with much love & respect for Jean Cocteau
May 26, 2010

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