Paint
That streaks along the canvas of my soul
And ebbs and flows into the corners of all time
And drowns the sullen earth in green and red,
Never again to show as real and true
But forever to be hidden
Lost
Unfound.

Were I to dig beneath the paint in search of – who can say?
What would the universe reveal?

Brush brush
Bold and free
The brush strokes paint me with deceit ‘til naught remains
Of what I really am
Save a plastered hulk of hell
That reeks of wines fermented
From the sewers of my soul.