I have found that art has tried to kill me The weight of the warmth, towering above shadows in graves
Art has tried to kill me, Doctor
Don't you see? My belly sinks into my hips, bones protrude, vomit perilous in my mouth I forget that I was
Born in blue
all that sparkles makes me close my eyes I can see the cat morphing / dripping into A puddle of fur and catness
I shake to expend the energy in my body
I am electric/I am on fire
He had someone to help him through his journey Muse, have you left me out in the coldest rain, Storms darken the sky, pieces float on
Rest assured, the storms calm I can feel my own hair moving Thoroughly unimpressive work
Reject if broken
I think my biggest fear is that I am mad And my biggest fear over that is that I am not
You can track a lot, you can't track me Hold it in Hold it in
Green is the night and out of madness woven, The self-same madness of the astronomers And of him that sees, beyond the astronomers, The topaz rabbit and the emerald cat....1
In the silence, bodies break and shatter.
1. Wallace Stevens (1879–1955), U.S. poet. "The Candle a Saint."
