Artifice

Blank canvases staring at me again, Begging me to spill my blood on their emptiness; That they may imbibe my agony...my pain... My soft-spoken-lust-rage. A silken marble floor yearning to be caressed by a wandering breeze, The velvet petals of freshly plucked roses, Crusting on the edges from my slow decay. Every one of them; My whores! Pimping the images from my tunnels of truth, Dirtied by the technique of a demon-child; The angel of lost innocence poured into pigmented dreams. My extended fingers, Brushing the nipple-grain of another blank face... Another reflection to invade my soul, The Jesus-sun offering the other cheek, To my fatal claw of bristled ecstasy, Hoping to lose its rays to a desire unbridled; The obdurate force of the power that is one. Only the Spiders know! Ever weaving a new surface for my escape; My love betrayal eternally caught between the fibres. 11 Feb 2005 (RSA)