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

wanting

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,

understood 

encapsulated me

 

oh

but that I could express

somehow

bring into form my Self

and snap the shutter in that moment

before i fade,

or flee

or flow away

 

before expectation

or experience

washes

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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