Eyes shut — shut to the light
Outside the carnal cage.
A single solitary blanket
Separates the corpse and a world
Waiting for signs
Of reanimation.
Oil on water — flushed
Down the drain
Goes yesterday’s pain
And streams of black gold
Cleanses a sore throat.
Oil or water — applied without thought.
Like a midwinter morning’s greeting
Every canvas primed in Stygian gloom.
Hues emerge — slowly
Reflections of a world outside
Applied randomly
To create a meaning
Where none be found.
As Nightfall beckons the Day escapes,
Abandoned brushes lie scattered
On trampled soil outside a carnal cage
Where a corpse lies in waiting
For the eyes to shut — for good.