As the brush touches the canvas accommodate my sins on a blank page. Sinuous dances around the room remain hopeful of which only feels alive when contemplating the world go by.
From here I can smell the secrets of your shadow. Known to have died and yet continues to scratch your skin trying to escape me. What are you afraid of who knows nothing? " Wherein lies that has nowhere to go? We can pretend grimace of surprise to learn that nothing can disturb a marked target, a black hand that caresses our heads with the compassion of one who knows what awaits us. Nothing is effective when things are hopeless.
I am watching with folded arms. Moisture softens the walls and I feel my breath I'm drowning slowly, empty, completely disturbed.
Closing my eyes I see what I am, just a blot on the landscape, just a drop of blood in a swamp.
I bite my tongue to split it in two. I wish I was still up so no one would notice me.
I am an enemy of nails, a unknown melody, a face unrealistic in the eyes of all seeing.
is marked on the lines of my hand.
Escape is just a mockery of fate. I cover the canvas and leap into the void.
0 comments:
Post a Comment