Change is magnetic,
The craving for something,
Fresh and new,
exotic and inconceivable.
From where you are now.
Don’t confuse this lagging delineation with,
The scrawling of a hysterical blue crayon.
Crayola didn’t promise you any dreams.
There is nothing but repulsion,
Knowing there is no way back
Here. To tell the tale,
After staring down the barrel
Of a fourier transform of life.
So the craving is satisfied instead by,
Inventing another shade of grey.
(c) Accidental Tentacles 2017