i swirl in van gogh.
i am charcoal stains
on blue,
a smile of barbed wire
for the painter,
i am mona lisa, true.
monet, he paints me
calm waters,
water lilies floating
in solitude,
he doesn't see
the fire sprouting
in my veins.
picasso cannot stain
my heart with colour,
magritte cannot
create a masterpiece
out of my eyes.
to be immortalized
i beg in pink
lick the brush
and paint myself
alive.
end my days
in escher,
sketch myself
out of the stairway,
into the globe.
throw myself
at deaths eye,
kiss the canvas
rotten, bloody,
pretty.