REDACTED
SEASONS
I have several seasons,
life is very sparse.
The valley of me saw the unfamiliar.
With him up the backstairs,
I will never again.
On occasion we visited,
the temperatures fall,
each were with strangers.
The whisky hot, deep.
Racing, we drank.
Broken open I felt alive,
my body tingling.
We had three days,
trying to get to grips.
We left,
spinning with risks.
The black took us immediately.
This was it.
Acrylic, Oil, Pastel, & Archival Ink on Paper
COMMUNITY
Staying in empty lots.
The city,
cutting and scraping.
New York,
replaced a vacant love.
People were spontaneous and vibrant.
Each different,
a narrative together,
divided into small parcels.
Acrylic, Oil, Pastel, & Archival Ink on Paper
SUFFERING
The difficult to grasp
a small slice moist and cool.
We would never fascinate
the idea of being so powerful.
Suffered a profound claustrophobia,
heaviness of no hope.
However, despite feeling overwhelmed,
seeing and understanding
a balance me to fear.
Capture dark churchyard,
melancholy life.
Fatally tipped with mixed fear of death,
a deadly sweet poison.
Looking more often than not,
you shimmer unseen elements.
Guide you to the black shade,
you want to be hostile.
Where the air is polluted.
Dark coniferous,
smell of burnt sugar.
While encrusted trunks are gnarled
as much as the atmosphere.
Acrylic, Oil, Pastel, & Archival Ink on Paper
CRIMSON
You are invited.
Intensity that allows you to see,
crimson.
It can take up to twenty-five years
to pause,
notice the shadow, the water milky
your ear wants to hear you.
You move
side to side
teased very gently,
new world.
Acrylic, Oil, Pastel, & Archival Ink on Paper