Another Unseen Shadow of Creation *melancholy_spirit13*

Did you see her?
Beautifully decrepit, fog-toned skin attached to
Wispy insubstantial wrists, swinging from unhinged arms
Fastened with pretty paperclips onto a clay-molded body
Ragged, haggard clippings of the past clothed her in jagged bits
Of a child’s imagination gone astray, and left alone in the darkness of
That unmastered mind, a crayon behind the designer’s left ear
Chubby fingers stroking a chubby chin, splattered with finger paint
The day’s work is now done, and he sleeps.

But she does not slumber, as her body gives way in the darkness
To things unfathomable in candy-coated blind eyes of you, me and
That glossy person sitting on the park bench, disgusted by the dirtiness
Of a society he will never comprehend - sitting alone, petrified.
Wandering out of back alleys, disheveled and undone she lies down
On that self-same park bench, the stars above snicker and she is lost
The dust of her past now smeared disgracefully across her smiling face
Eternally smiling, eternally alone.

The artist awakes from his calm bed-ridden doze and finding himself
Without the creation of a midnight reverie, he is lost with that
Glimmer of self-induced profundity dying in his eyes, his implement of action
(Yes, the meaning behind his egocentric tirades) falls with a harsh clatter
The world looses its green, the sun looses itself
Turmoil only feds on its own perversions of truth and we fall into oblivion

….if I believed in such a thing.
Entity is consequential only when the artist is tangible
Not merely a figment of yet another down-trodden and hopeless
Obstinate imagination.

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