My body is a canvas of distress
Perhaps somebody will notice
That the destruction of the inside
Can be expressed from the outside
I use my body to scream from my brain
I can use a fork and a blade as a brush
Both will create different patterns on me
One shows dignity and one shows suffering
Which masterpiece will I let them see
The smaller I get, the louder I can paint
The less I need, the more I can draw
Do not applaud this ever changing art
Burn it, destroy it, and **** it- that’s how it’s made
Creation via destruction is all I know
My plate sculpts words I can’t form
Tangled thoughts get carved into art
Please see beyond the splashes of color
And dare to question and wonder
If the red paint was made from blood
Or the blue from self induced tears
This painted discipline went further
Than the artist ever could expect
It should be stopped when it was put it the Louvre
But the brush is stuck and the painting doesn’t end
It goes on and on because
The more you paint, the more canvas you need to cover
A cry for help and expression
Warps into a never dying obsession
Please wash off the pigment
Erase the pencil marks
Never let me turn my head into art