White characters without faces,
They all seem to have a body.
A semi-fluid body ready to take any shape;
the sun is white, rows of houses are white,
Flowered latex underwears,
Round breast with tiny spaces for nipples,
Shiny buckets that hold sand,
Horizon, this place does not have a horizon!
Even their red wine is white.
Cups onto lips, black stained marks left on the medial cleft,
A transparent film envelops the world,
The sun seems to shine light,
That turns each man into a prism.
A fresh ray of rainbow,
When it ejaculates into the world,
It seems like this world is coloured.
Dregs dropping down the throat,
Recite stories and words,
And the moment they hit the stomach,
BOOM! It disappears.
Its white again!
And I wonder if this world was white or was it coloured.
Another sip into the steamy concoction, And there are splashes of colour are everywhere.
But one day I may run out of this,
And I may forget to colour my world.