His Paint Can (part 1)

My artist has a sickness

There once was an artist

Who discovered how to spit pure hatred

 

He found that it collected in the space between

The back of his throat and his tongue

Filling the void to the point of near suffocation

 

At first he thought he could use this

Utilize it to reinvent his craft

 

So he grabbed one of his discarded paint cans

And retched the grey fluid into the can

Spattering flecks across one of his pristine

Untouched canvases

 

The hatred

Though it was only a drop

Somehow ran

Streaking the page

 

Every speckle ran along each fiber it touched

Growing spreading consuming

Leaving a spider web on his unborn works

 

And when the brush returned to his anxious fingers

When he was no longer collecting his hatred

And he could see the colors of life again

The tainted canvases would not accept his paint

They acted as a lacquer thinner to his imagination

 

So the hatred began to broil again

And the void began to fill

The retching was resumed

 

He began to frantically dump all of his paints

Every containers in his house

Simply to catch the hatred overflowing

But eventually he could no longer spit

He had grown too tired

He had run out of things to catch

He was brewing more than he releasing

 

So he was left with no choice

But to swallow his hatred

 

And there it sat in the confines of his stomach

Broiling and rolling

Slowly being filtered

Into the rest of his organs

Working into his blood stream

 

Until finally it spread through his whole body

Encasing his heart

Squeezing the life out of it

As his heart stopped

As he collided with the floor

His hatred spilled out of him

 

He was left all alone

In a room in the dark

With nothing around him

Except the hatred he spit

05/10/2012

Author's Note

0333 am

Reviews

[...]

Oh! This post is like a spine-chilling journey that takes one through the alleys of hatred -- revealing how hatred operates and travels through the human being. This is what I'd call infinitely original poetry about an emotion and an emotional experience that everyone can relate to. The end is again exceedingly compelling. You are a master at your craft and improving every day. Spectacular work, my friend.