Me sitting in a chair with my usual poor posture
-we'll call this rest.
Behind me, a beautiful white ****** canvas
-we'll call this potential.
A shotgun loaded with paintbrushes
-we'll call this the medium.
Barrel in my mouth, the trigger clicks, then
BOOM
-we'll call this expression.
Look past my limp soulless body to the now finished canvas. What do you think?
-we'll call this interpretation.
The reds are deep and the blues are true; little chunks of grey matter
-we'll call this promise.
However, it all dries black in the end
-we'll call this accurate.
Me still alive in my chair staring at the wall. Pen in my mouth. Ink in my teeth
-we'll call this gnashing insignificance.
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 12:52 AM UTC
Me sitting in a chair with my usual poor posture
-we'll call this rest.
Behind me, a beautiful white ****** canvas
-we'll call this potential.
A shotgun loaded with paintbrushes
-we'll call this the medium.
Barrel in my mouth, the trigger clicks, then
BOOM
-we'll call this expression.
Look past my limp soulless body to the now finished canvas. What do you think?
-we'll call this interpretation.
The reds are deep and the blues are true; little chunks of grey matter
-we'll call this promise.
However, it all dries black in the end
-we'll call this accurate.
Me still alive in my chair staring at the wall. Pen in my mouth. Ink in my teeth
-we'll call this gnashing insignificance.
I want to die often but tend to end up living instead.
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