The canvas to never more...

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: House of Ghosts
As an artist, I get frustrated. I ask why? I feel dreams of Vincent as I sell very few pieces, yet I still make more. I ask why? Non stop I find visions of pictures always in my head and words on my tongue. I am a victim of talent. I ask why? Why do I see, beauty in everything, kiss love in my thoughts, and feel so much emotional passion in everything I do. I am a dreamer...and I ask...I ask why?

Submitted: December 06, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 06, 2016



I stand.

On a perpendicular plane to.
Nowhere in perpetual vision.
I see.
Nothing beyond the nudes,
the landscapes, the still-life's.
I paint.
As it sets my eyes askew in.
Thoughts I never speak.
I touch.
Sunsets running from yellow,
to orange and red to black.
I try.
to find stories of the Greeks and.
And Romans in the stars of the sky.
I lie.
On a bed of nails piercing skin, 
and it bleeds my skin.
I find.
I don't know where I am going.
In my dream within me.
I know.
Only where I have been
in a path blind with color.


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