lateralus identity spectrum

i am
not made of glass; however a portion of myself
extricated through intricate ministrations
is of course transparent, predictable as day (night):
a summer hurricane on fertile soil of the mind.

i am not purple, rich and smooth
but brown, perhaps,
as plain on its surface
as it is strength and age within;

red around the edges for passionate tempers
which impulse dictates to outsiders
in vituperative outbursts of acid–
a droplet of blue, for serenity in calamity
a splatter of gray,
smatterings of green and just a tinge of gold:

but perhaps, if blended well,
if caressed with the correctly callused finger
or stroked with the pure brittle brush,
mixed in exact ratios of overheart and undermind
(undermine my mind and heart),
i may begin to appear,



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