Paint me, won't you, my dear?
Paint me as magnificent or as grotesque
as you see me;
exaggerate my features,
exaggerate them greatly.
A paintbrush in a soldier's hand is useless,
and in an artist's it's a voice,
but in yours, a paintbrush is a weapon.
A weapon far more frightening
than any loaded assault rifle
aimed at my temple.
Paint my eyes closed --
I don't want to see them.
I don't want to see what
you see when you look into them;
that'd be far too unbearable.
I've become nothing more
than a caricature of my current self,
sadder than sad's
definition defines:
( sad: /sad/ adjective. feeling or showing sorrow; unhappy. )
( far sadder than sad's definition defines. )
Paint me with a bright yellow shirt.
Paint me with the yellowest yellows,
yellows straight from dandelions,
freshly squeezed from lemons,
recently smelted from gold,
stolen from the sun --
just, please, use the yellowest yellows.
Paint me with a smile.
Paint me with the most animated,
the most ecstatic smile.
( Please. )
Paint me, won't you, my dear?
Paint me as magnificent or as grotesque
as you see me;
exaggerate my features,
exaggerate them greatly.
Exaggerate them beyond recognition,
if you so desire.
( Please. )
Paint me --
paint me on a blank canvas,
set that canvas to fire,
and toss the ashes
into the wind.
( Please. )
YOU ARE READING
Contrast
PoetryA collection of tragedies of sorts, of demons or angels (whatever you'd fancy to call them) that lurk and/or gleam in my mind. Written when the moon's dreary and the sun's near awakening. Obnoxiously metaphoric, subtly inspirational. © Jake Sullivan...
