Slur the inane dribble over the canvas
That resembles a Rembrandt
Your words are beautiful, hammer nails into the work
Pin up the truth, the fiery forthcoming
I regurgitate, the canvas resembles your intentions
Chimes pour over, to obscure the colors
All gray now, the gray man, acidic mindset burns through
The easel is your body, you are calm and empty
Hollowed out by the same spade that buried you
Good night, youth eaten
Old age gray, even younger meets worse
The sounds are forgotten, tell the mothers, and burn
Thank you and goodnight