Bleeding Art

A poetic exploration of the excruciating exercise of creation

Photo by gustavo centurion on Unsplash

purposeless I scribble
beyond the lines
on the floor
over walls
beyond ridges and aerêtes
into the whispers of the sky

scratching out meaning
carved immutable
upon waxed tablets
now warming
dripping
Dalíesque
surrealist
in the heat
of a dying sun
.
the edges blur
I scrabble for a hold
and grip tighter to this crayon
trying to control the flow
of every pigment within
designated spaces

trying to avoid the stain of sin
under resonating places
where the colours spill
question marking

is the picture ruined?

or have I created splendid art?

I cannot see
I cannot feel
I cannot comment or critique
I cannot decipher my own…