Molasses and Liquorice.
Bend the pen till it snaps and cuts the wrist.
Mixed ink
- incubated in blood clots.
Page rips
-as the heart tries to think.
Veins pop and fizzle, the mind reaches a full stop.
A stroke of genius doesn’t kill the ego
-but stroke the ego and the genius may begin to bleed.
What gaunt faces of artists whose dead cells still hold!
An arm twitches in hopes of new stories untold.
Paved way for the scorpion through assassination of the toad.
Increased gluttony by creating forks in the road.
Lo and behold another manifestation is sold!
Erode the vision of my maker.
In proxy wars between false shaman and soothsayers.
Slackened jaw, pins in the spine,
our art betrayed us!
I lunge at the swine with copper watches handcuffed to these gold hands.
Epileptic jewels, flesh on flesh;
my demise was never contraband.
To gorge on this tormented mind till I am naught but hollowed eyes.
