Late Opened Ides of March

There are colors in my rainbow,

the likes of which i've never seen.

When there's nowhere esle to go,

the crystal prism ceases to gleam...

There is a creative misconception

and errors strewn about the blueprints.

Gems and stones shine in defiance,

refracting wicked, colorless intent.

Secondary seperations.

Braindead interrogations.

Since what day do my sapphires glow red?

Black diamonds equal polished coal.

The end of this rainbow reveals NO pot of gold.

Just the leprechauns whose limbs are unattatched.

Lucky green, lucky charm, lucky numbers that don't match.

The colors in my rainbow paint vivid visions.

They discourage the sun from shining...

threatening to incinerate the entire spectrum.

There's nowhere else to go now,

when the prism's blindness is bloody blinding..

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