without life, there is no death
oh, that’s so gauche
a clunky mixed up pastiche of a mind
muddy palette of a personality
a composition no one understands
a glob of van dyke brown with a dash of alizarin crimson
with a touch of ever so stylish black
a bleeding palette of plasma puddling below
dripping and dropping into its own creation
brushes with dried paint, brushes with disaster
brushes with fame, brushes with the law
stars of white canvas shining through
from hundreds of millions miles away
chips of paint potato chips salting the floor
canvasses floor to ceiling
easel on three sketchy peg legs on their last legs
the prodigal misunderstood artist
black clothes - black moods
melancholic colors tinted with gin
paint splattered clothes and shoes
crying oil based tears
misunderstood
