Famous hands
victim to this lonesome
canvas,
abandoned in the candlelit
hours of dreary nights
spent shackled to misery,
turmoil, and a glass- no, a
bottle-
of the nearest liquor.
Grieving in the pit
of bottomless words,
their bodies destroyed by the
chaos of nothing.

My mundane shadow
lives in the light of their
inventive sacrifice--
I bleed overused metaphors,
and plagiarize their pain.