A Medley Of Messages

P A I N T I N G P O E T R Y

A designer of catastrophe.

A creator of distress.

These are what you are.

With a stroke of a brush.

A quick slide of your hand,

you're painting poetry.

Not the pleasant kind though.

You take my emotions,

and splatter them across your canvas.

I am not paint.

I am not to be used,

but you don't see that.

I am an apple.

An apple?

Yes,

an apple.

I am an apple,

falling from a tree.

The realization of crashing is there,

it's soon to come.

All I can do now is crash.

Crash to the floor,

like a car into a wall.

My emotions are a car crash.

And,

it's your fault.

Because you're painting poetry.

Arranging letters in no exact sequential order.

Creating words with no particular meaning.

Making sentences,

whose only intentions are to spite me.

To break me.

To cause another crash.

And of course,

they cause another crash.

The crash is inevitable.

You can't fight the poetry.

It's a beautiful catastrophe,

for you at least.

I hope you enjoy it.

At the spite of my emotions,

I hope you enjoy it.

I hope you enjoy,

painting poetry.