Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jo Baez Mar 2016
A lingering melody from a metallic vibrating needle machine,
sings in my eardrums.
Thoughts become art,
melted in Ink.
Descending into my epidermis.
As pain travels and escapes through my body.
My face molds and breaks into minuscule painful multiple aches of gestures within every ardent minute.
As the artist cuts into the brain of fiction.
Dipping his metallic paint brush machine into it's blood.
And carving aesthetic realism into his human canvas.

— The End —