you starve to death
on both scraps
and best intentions
the former lingers
while the latter
does nothing at all

i cannot tell
the difference between
bird shit streaks
and cave paintings
graffiti from the
finest painters works

an incessant hunger
keeps cramping muscles
flush with lactic angst
showering painembers
to bloom on the tender
souls of the wretched

my hands are gnarled
digging through open wounds
to paint the ceiling
of this decrepit cathedral
with the pigments of who
i once dreamt of being