Artistic Phenomena

Dawn saw another death; accidental,
fresh imagery roamed beads of cold sweat
as a paintbrush called to be passion-stroked,
extrasensory perception in dreams;
violent scenes assaulted sleep's warm comfort.
Eyes half-closed - colours scream for the canvas
to be wrapped in premonition's events,
supernatural speed strikes insanity
across the face of reason while nerves spin
adrenaline into webs of purpose -
artistic phenomena splashes me
while time stands idle in the room's corner,
terrifying the shadows that weave silk.

Her face still haunts visionary waters,
crushed with pressure's invisible wet hands,
and I wonder if it has happened yet
or it waits still at the curtains of life.
All I know is I must capture moments
before reality's cough removes them
from the mind's struggled gasps; dangerous wisps
which drive this body to madness - action.
Perhaps I could warn her not to walk on
the river's beautiful enticing banks,
but that is beyond possibility
for she's a stranger whose life merged with mine
within the great mystery of these days.

With a sigh stuttered from the back of tears
I proceed with the last scream she will leave;
twirls of bubbled panic as her spirit
waves goodbye to all the ambitions left
as footnotes in her diary's little world.
To wander along people's agony
is my curse since the reaper was cheated,
when my breath returned with a solemn cry,
I should have left earth when my heart gave way
all those moons ago now but here am I -
trapped in an eternal nightmare of souls,
only my solitude and oils to keep
the demons from the whispers which haunt me.