Rounded Thoughts

This is the beginning to a series of prose I want to work on. The premise is an artist and his opium addicted wife.

A quicksand sculpture

Conforms to your fingers

Fills your lungs

And drowning dry

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It needs to breathe

Like wine

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The private wedding

Of the artist and the cold woman

In the blind light chapel

Satisfies her fear of a death alone

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The man washes oil pastel off his hands

His grandfather's hands

Finger bones segmented like bamboo

Used for nearly everything

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She wants him to take life

A spider's life

Begs him

And he listens

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The temperature of her body

Miserable and clammy

Makes the artist gag

Spit bile into the back of his throat

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Reclusive in nature

He prefers the company of the pulp in the paper

Always sipping lilac milk

Chewing the plant matter

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She would have these temper tantrums

Eat sugar cubes all week long

Carving words into the table

Words with nasty meanings

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Her ghost would leave her body

Leaving behind a shell of an animal

Forever tormented by fits of despair

And the spirit sails happily

---

Phantasmic broadening of the mind's surface

Diving deeply into nightmare

Safe haven from reality

Narcotic tea puts her right to sleep

---

Ambiguity follows the artist

A simple man seeming mysterious

Aware of this fact

Yet ashamed of his choice

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The woman is mostly dead

Longing for pupils to roll into her brain

Memory of their first day

Brings a desire to paint her once more

---

Posed to fool aliens

Into thinking that she's healthy

Beautiful, without thinning hair

Skin to be punctured carelessly 

---

Once, he had loved this girl

Before she grew cold

A sleeping skeleton, whose life tortures him

Keeping the artist inside for all time

---

A tickle fills his throat

Their first kiss is no lingering memory

The second stays in his head, however

It came the evening after his mother died

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The woman pains him

Her habit is his misery

Affection in sweet bursts of acknowledgement 

Dying in a beautiful fashion

---

This painting is bad

Everybody knows it

Tearing the canvas in anger

Tearing with his grandfather's hands

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Author's Note

Hi.

Reviews

[Lonely Islander]

Well hello there:-). I LOVED the concept of this story. It was the perfect combination, the most perfect couple. I enjoyed this very much. Great job:-):-):-D.