"Blank Canvas

I stared at a blank canvas.
Till, razor sharp thoughts slice my belly.
Blood splatters canvas.
Vivid hues blow great streams across its virginal purity.
In my pain, my ecstasy, my palette of paint becomes my fluids.
I drop to my knees and smear my bloody entrails across its surface.
Transported to some surreal world of color.
I taste sound, while hearing pigments, bathing in hues.
Feeling my essence leach away…I am nothing but pure light.
Death’s fingers encase my throat.
Gasping, fighting, vortex of nothingness pulls into its pulsing womb.
As my heart beat slows, it becomes louder in my ears.
Thaddddummmp…Thadddummmp…Thad……………………….
Silence so profound I fancy hearing a planets orbital screams.
Void, death, birth nihilistic thought of Summerian Gods.
I roll in these experiential events.
Neither here nor there.
Orchids bloom before my frontal lobes, vaginal, virginal, gates of hell.
Through which I  am thrust wiggling screaming.  
Coated in my sacred fluids, orgasmic rictus twisting my spine.
I am born to someday wear that crown of thorns all true artists of space, of time must someday don.
I find my self still staring at a blank canvas.  
 
-end-
 
(c)-DS Baker