Canvas - Z.M

Nothing but intoxication.
Nothing but a cold soul in the middle of the night, when the moon is at it's highest and his glass is at his lowest.

When his hand raises, it's enough for me to beg on my knees.

It's enough for me to fend for myself, to stop myself from saying anything that intensifies his anger, to stop him from going any further and worsening his canvas.

My body - his canvas.