The Ravenous Mess

The ravenous mess curdles,
untouched by the strokes
of a painter whose certainty
exceeds his ability–staring,
staring at the bright brew,
the jumble of hue, as if to
ensure an extant genocide against
the mess’ rue: A shady breath!
the shady sleep, the shade of misfortune,
a shade too deep. Yet there it sits,
dabbed by the natural longings that convert
artists into geniuses; Natural, drab longings,
like the night sky that lacks astronomy
(the gazer’s fret!), or the dreamer
who seeks slumber by the awareness of breath,
O, to touch that artist’s tress!
Pessimism toward the pessimistic shade
has left this painting stressed.
The curdling mess, a ravenous grease,
drowns in a faucet, the artist’s release.