Should the ache dull,
consummate the liver,
fulfill desire,
I refuse to stop it.
I keep feeling the whole day in one pinch.
Perhaps writing should not render in burst
format as it ****** and rots.
Rothko knew pain was art because to Rothko
it was all art.
He would not budge, stood stooped in
knee-deep-scarlet splash-stained denim
begging all to see the colors through him.
Rothko paints mountains with pulses in
red rectangles.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
Should the ache dull,
consummate the liver,
fulfill desire,
I refuse to stop it.
I keep feeling the whole day in one pinch.
Perhaps writing should not render in burst
format as it ****** and rots.
Rothko knew pain was art because to Rothko
it was all art.
He would not budge, stood stooped in
knee-deep-scarlet splash-stained denim
begging all to see the colors through him.
Rothko paints mountains with pulses in
red rectangles.
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