The brushes firm as colors drip
to floor artistic feet a-slip,
then colors float by hands in flight
with pauses for his work to sip.
He dances hues, so morbid, bright
in tune to visionary’s sight –
a dash of blue, a streak of red,
a haze of green surreal light.
He whirls about till nearly dead
with crazéd visions, most of dread.
When eyelids tense, his eyes roll round
to play the visions in his head.
They play. They scream – walls white around,
the gag in place brings muffled sound
to tortures for his mind’s unfound
with arms and brushes tightly bound.