as the wet drops of paint
Splatter across the scene
I'm reminded of a saint
who's life devoted,
and transformed by love,
lived to long

My strokes are disciplined,
but time decides the fate,
and helpless to nature,
Gravity brings the heavy ***** of paint
Down into a bleeding imperfection
that tried to fight the odds
and Live forever

The scene,
many greens overpowered by reds
And blacks covering whites
depict a nameless man
who will live longer than me
the artist
who's fingerprints,
hide among the texture,
and who's essence is captured by the beast

the beast
and a man
fighting to live a second longer
each with titles and memories
each with myth and reputations
each risking death just to be remembered
through tongue and emotion

sadly the faces are unrecognizable,
the paint to thick for detail
and the detail to ambiguous for translation

in the end w ** will know that i knicked my finger
and bled on the canvas
or smeared the paint
who will know that i am the man
and who will know that they are the beast
and who will know that the saint lay in paint