Wednesday, August 19, 2009


A blank canvas
"Fill the space," he said.
"Why are you so afraid?"

Lines of colour
Until no space is left.

This bitter taste
I cannot deny
"Breathe it in.
Let it fill you," he said.

Everything becomes nothing
Blank becomes full
Empty becomes whole

And yet the longing persists
One last drag
One last stroke
Of a brush 
That can hold no more paint.

tall penguin

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