Create

Art consumes me.
I sit in a
Cold, brown chair and draw a silver
Brush
Across my skin.
I smile with sawing teeth and hungry eyes.
Paint
Runs over my shoulder,
Down my legs,
Onto the white tile.
I fall into the ocean beneath me
While the image develops, tacky.
Vital waves dry golden and salty
On the floor.
I sleep but do not dream.