COMPOSITION IN WIND SUN AND TIME

rehabilitating a distorted perception

memory like wind

lash the flesh of the subject

firmly held in it’s cyclone size hands

a salty serpent's tongue

licks the wounds till the canvas succumbs

tortured, bled out, perfectly executed

the child looks up to Mother

offering the art into her care

another faded cadaver

for the psychoanalyst to picnic upon

stitched dreams of grandeur

maelstroms of nightmarish carnage

here is where I stumble

lost in the grand hall of my imagination

wall papered in ethereal decay

where blistered blue paint a shoreline to be reached

and rust dripping from exposed nail heads, salvation

Disturbed -'THE SOUND OF SILENCE'