an angel set foot on the crowd’s flowing tongue and whispered the words to be spoken i reached into my hollow bag and set down my intentions upon the ground, to not interfere it spilled all over the grassy floor, unbound, untamed, and i drank the fading elixir before she spoke: ravenously, the crowd poured forth its molten message, untidily it spewed its hoary dewdrops and i, unblinkingly, watched, thoughtfully, not sure of the consequences of such truly vile alarming words as such were uttered: “thou shalt seek thy inner peace not in the mouths of babes, but within the vomit of the homeless man who doth scrape himself across the sidewalk half naked; thou shalt tip the razor blade of life into thy veins, letting forth inhumanity and shame.” shuddering i placed my lamp table closer to my bed, seeking its light, and peered anxiously into my book. where is it written? i thought. that such scenes should speak to me in these terms? the blackness spoke: “it is in your head.” ruptured thus upon the quaking slab of truth i made my way among incessant sobbing to the root of all astoundment and glee: the inner reservoir of hope, darkened by my stay among mortals and there, instructed by the death-maiden i chewed melancholy and insecurity until my own tongue rolled out upon the ground. it was not enough that they spoke to me thus, i must smite my own inner demons and face the sound of truth worshiping the bridal gown which hung upon my knees, i anointed my skull with a last blessing: that though i may cringe from the face of my own base fears, let them rise up; for shame is only in the quenching of consciousness in certainty of salvation. if you actually say “yes” to the horrifying realities of life, you have the chance of actually living and producing peace.
acrylic on clay board, 9"x12"
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