When in the ears a silence swells
suspended instants have no limits
That’s when the paint bleeds
Out of veins;
the dripping leads
To form and shape and flavor
Its a time of contrast no voice tells
The will embedded in your spine what
To direct you to
and why
it starts seizing, something new
Something right to savor
from a world separate from cause and effect
emerges
And the consciousness is drowned in purges
Of water from a loaded brush
licking a canvas
Where reasons transcend into the superfluous
And reason melts away
And the words tumble out
with no sense of themselves
Down drains of semi awareness into sewers of oblivion
They collect and shudder,
as their endless mutter
Is rendered
Obsolete.
The eyes are dry
And colors are not colors anymore.
Were they colors
Ever?
They’re magnets in disguise
Sucked and falling into place
Beneath the vacant eyes
Finger brush, what’s the difference,
Were they separate
Never.
Is the merging of the medium with the self called
pleasure?
No.
It’s a fix, an addiction meant to treasure
The world is not what it seemed moments ago
The walls are contorting, the sky falling low
There’s red and there’s violet mixed in with the snow
That seemed to me white, just moments ago.
And why is he here in the twilight glow
With his face melting off with nowhere to go
With the wet of the brush seeping so slow
to cover the sides
of the canvas he hides
beneath his arm that tapers to yellow.
Don't empty me don’t end
Don't melt into the past
Don't let the candle wax freeze
Into a figure without fluidity
Into a snapshot when within you
There was once infinity.
Don't return to being a painting on the wall.
An object a thing
Like a bell that cannot ring
Like a pen that's out of ink
Like a leaf that's come to fall
Anything but that corpse upon the wall.
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