At the end of a turbulent week

laced with shards of glass

that pain the joints

knife-edge cold cuts into

the skin

the frozen face immoveable.

A state of delicate fragility

a walking sculpture for the

Dead Society –

Talented poets and artists

pushed aside

by a melee of hypocrisy.

Their art: knife edge bold cuts

caked blood on shards of glass

smashed on the ceramic floor

of their canvas.

All turned to crystal blue

as every artist experiences

his or her blue cycle.

A blue period

where not a thing

where no substance will be

clearly defined.





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