The Pink That Surrounds You

From "Tales of the Golden Age"

Insulation is a figment of what is just more fables, tales they spew

What is it worth to search for a light bulb in the darkness?

Vanished as it was conjured, in a spark

So now here I am left without a thought

Aimlessly scribing the aches I have been given and brought upon myself

The net to cushion my fall flutters without restraint

When shall come the day to see the Iron Gates?

Down in the water in which Achilles was dipped

Gripped around my ankles, so my heels may be bared

To the eye of the world, my softness for your use

Perplexing are the words of a mind that wanders

Yet unknown as to why by I, they saunter

Cutting the crowd with my blade of tongue

Each man, each woman, knows why they have come

They have taught me, as I hope to teach them

Bliss is real, unlike insulation