soixante-huit // the artist and the marionette

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an artist's fingers
painted me
with a precision
so defined
yet d e l i c a t e
that i almost came
alive

a L m O s T

an artist's fingers
tangled me
in a colourfully hypnotic embrace;
as hushed a millennial marionette,
i was
entranced by
a palette of oranges
and...and...
lemons

!!!!!! nO wAiT !!!!!!!
i meant oranges
and yellows

an artist's golden fingers
which shone like the sun
and his
exotically fruity embrace 
blinded me
into a rabbit hole
of confusion

tumble tuMbLe TuMBle
T U M B L E !!!

the millennial marionette
is
caught by the artist's
fingers,
red paint swelling
in her canvas heart
which
is
soon
to
be
T O R N  apart

an artist's fingers
are
strong enough
to tear a canvas in half
so that it is no longer
beating;
instead it is
beaten

the millennial marionette —
hushed eternally.

a deafening 
silence
that will later
consume the artist.

she was his millennial
sweetheart,
she was.

o.r

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