An inverted lamp to aid a drawing
that walks at a pace slower than a dead snail
perhaps today is the fateful day
when it will see the light of sun
or feel the cold gaze of a starless sky
the more I fill into it, the lesser i love it
It's a miasma of flaws, wrecked with wrong turns
things I shouldn't do
things I should've done
How I began to love
and then it grew dejected
when you keep scratching
in repeated strokes
without the slightest pulsating vein
in dreary dull repeated strokes
it gets jaded, satiated
draw it still, finish what you started
drag it on bit by bit
I made a bed
but I don't have to sleep in it
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