MY induced silence
a pure anguish
which I dearly love
it is the gift unwrapped
beside the door
upon a flatly-table
so stable

Your fascination of me
i beg i am not the worthy
but your continued illusion
of object propels me

My flatter a curse
that burns within me
and I am the forgotten
an uninvited child by life

My crayola
—  childhood I smelled
in youth made me cry
a smell of art that indescribable
invited love
and now the pain so replaced

What heart alive
past certainty
knows,  not death
The promise
so perfection all within the mind

And I am somewhat heartened by pain
the sign of life-like a dying soul
unlike your love
i am strangely excited

Then i should — gave my life
to the expression of beauty
within art and prose
because flesh is not alive
without her artistic expression

:: 11-11-2014 ::