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.
BLUE.EULB
zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’17.