I'm used to the smell of smoke, I have watched many bridges burning in my past, that's why I never heard when my dreams burn to ashes. all the pages and passion raised by flames carried by wind, I have inhaled my own death.
I'm covered from head to toe in resin, acrylics and epoxy, Some pulverized rocks my son gathered from the Chattooga River, Now reduced to a burnt ember dust. I added silicone sludge and a little baking powder as well, And once mixed, this dicey concoction is beautifully toxic, So I waft the air and inhale it.
Painting a colorful sunset is too easy, I prefer black and white, So with a wooden board the size of a door, I get to work with my rubber sledgehammer, blowtorch A gallon of poison and flammable spray.
The passers by have seen this look in eyes, From The Shining or possibly their preachers, You know, the same look that's a sight to behold.
Slamming the hammer down with brute force And purposed abandonment, I paint my sunset and wrangle the stars later. A shower won't do me justice>