deepundergroundpoetry.com
Creation
Be silent.
Be still.
You picture.
You painting of mine.
You creation.
Without my hands you wouldn't exist.
Without my bizarre thoughts you would still be a blank canvas.
How can a painting haunt you in your sleep ?
Haunt you with visions of what it wants to become.
Go away...Just for now.
So I can breath.
Written 12/2005
Be still.
You picture.
You painting of mine.
You creation.
Without my hands you wouldn't exist.
Without my bizarre thoughts you would still be a blank canvas.
How can a painting haunt you in your sleep ?
Haunt you with visions of what it wants to become.
Go away...Just for now.
So I can breath.
Written 12/2005
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