Contained

Each upward stroke leaves no trace
Of the effort of a tremorous hand
As layer upon layer, until perfection achieved
Found tracings of softly sought strands
Lay hidden beneath blocked lines.
Lines that are full, plump-mouthed and  fierce
In vibrant colour and sound
Barely held in by the splayed lashes, the brushes
The farce.
The strays leak beyond the masked aligned
In a clamour of crazed vision and voice,
Of a tortured stance that bends, submits
And exhilarates beyond the stretched confines
Spilling, dripping and dancing in a hunger of madness
Of the soul. Off the page, off the canvas
The walls, the rooms destroyed
Barely visible beneath the fire of a sanity devoid.
Spectacular.
Calm.

The slowly dying flames char the remains
Of the clarity to our soul
And all that we retain
Are the layered strokes of perfection
Purposed in a hardened veneer.
And with subdued hues
Of an emptied plane
The strokes are placid and clear.