Exultant by Sunrise

He's quiet,
the silence is something new.
So quiet that
it's deafening.

Then I hear that scratching,
hes in that trance yet again..
his canvas is horridly blank,
as insecure as he is.

His mind was black,
black as calligraphers ink,
blacker than I could have
ever presumed, more so than
the skylines in vague shades.

This was his passion,
lust in it's purest form
faint outlines of a
masterpiece, stay trapped
with in his mind...

His intentions were cruel,
Oh yes, I did know

There was no light in our
unsanctified world, just the imaginary
Eden we manipulated as reality.
he was tired of believeing...

Through that brush his screams emerged,
saying things so obscene I can't repeat...
Every stroke revealed just,
a little bit more...

More than I ever hoped to see..

He reflected on the decline of morals,
depicted the lack of trust,
and predicted the end of time.
something few dare to do..

He's as morbid as the night is long...
in a world where the sun doesnt rise...