Passion in my paint
Faded like exhaled breath
On a cold winter’s day
My words stripped
Of their grandeur
In the avalanche of phantom bliss

Disquieting quietude drenches the aftermath
I need this dirge
To spread through like a contagion
Corroding the chimaera of merriment
Primordial saudade
Defiling the canvas with
Blood shot ink
Once more.