A Newer Skin

The clock hangs
Look down and pull open the drawer
Small people—living in your veins
And fearing for the life they saved

A slow connect not so quickened into shame
Feel for those lit candles and taste those bloodied blades
A lick—a shiver right behind the ears
Legs spring, kick the chair, you look down on its word
Almost see the face in a noise you’ve never heard

You read the language of the light
— Cold scene of the cracked mirror
Disturbed warnings of your next sleep
The final dream is here


The lines above came from a really creepy feeling I got one night home alone. Finished the painting this afternoon. It seems to be something reemerging/resurfacing from an old shape with a new form, to me anyway.


1 Comment

Filed under Art, poems

One response to “A Newer Skin

  1. It’s strange how being alone can kind of wash over you like that. I always feel different when I know no one is in the house with me. Or even sometimes, on the rare occasion, at night, when it’s all dark and shadows play across the walls.

    For some reason I still think of scary monsters when I’m alone. I always hope they’ll come get me, but at the same time, terrified.

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