The Moth Diaries, Poetry
Poem 27- Artwork of Blood (8)
let us paint a picture,
the artwork of blood.
see it on the inside of your eyelids,
and outside your imagination.
visulise my mind as a bloody heart,
that you wrapped in barbed wire.
pumping though dying,
through the wound you left gaping.
squeeze your fist a little tighter,
see if we can bleed the stone.
punch nails in, jam spikes in,
spurting out the pain within.
imagine a piece of art so fine,
Da Vinci could match no other.
streaked black and stained red,
dripping into open fangs.
envision the artwork of blood,
pictured like a spiders web,
caught in morning dew.
in the centre lies the creature...
where all torture originates,
dungeons fall short, the will bent to mine.
seduced by the needle,
dragging to create this art.
clenched small and firm,
non may pass or submit,
until the gory details have fled us by.
so remember the artwork of blood, so fine.
© Lucy Griffin Feb05
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