objet d’art

object d’art


take my dreams and paint them

this brush I cannot hold

for I too trapped inside the color

where I can’t breathe


with my truth unfurled

nailed down upon the wall

there are too many eyes

staring into me


piercing with their swords

that seek through filters

blue and green

but grey

my vision clouds


and still


there is no image

that can ever capture me

though I find myself



wanting to be seen

until at last I flee


off of the canvas

before it is too late

before they think that they have seen me,

known me,


encapsulated me



but that I could express


bring into form my Self

and snap the shutter in that moment

before i fade,

or flee

or flow away


before expectation

or experience


her distortions over me

and i disappear again

into her need


oh it seems that I will always be

a mystery quite veiled

the beauty of a word

not yet incarcerate

an elusive song

not yet made flesh


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