My well-oiled feathers weep
With sparks of treason
And doubts enough
To cripple the world.
My inky tongue shoots
A filigree of stars
Into scarlet mouth holes
And eyes so wide
They split the seams.
*
The trees sway,
Full moon coarse
As a whetstone.
A vulture stirs
Wet bones closed
Within a sacrilegious beak.
Crunch Crunch
All is lost.
Crunch Crunch
The unlivable death
Begins and ends
With a collusion of flesh
And pockets wrung
Of meager content.
*
I envisioned this more as being consumed by the painting. I went with a very surreal approach as some paintings have very bizarre and multi-layered metaphorical imagery. I approached this like a dream where everything seen is a manifestation of some aspect of your psyche.
For
https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/08/27/tale-weaver-28-art-artist/
mindlovemisery 