- Vol. 04
- Chapter 01
I’m waiting for inspiration
while he looks at something I can’t see
or perhaps, he’s watching me.
Behind him, gloves line the wall
in a chaotic color scheme.
I’m still waiting for my muse.
He is watched, in his jacket
smeared with paint, by his
creation, as am I.
But his creation, cunning
contemplates stepping from that canvas.
He will blend with his creator, possess him
paint him into his prison and become a God.
While I sit and wait for an idea.
This new being will notice
upon a veined, black marble table
a single, wrinkled glove of grey.
Like him, it is unique, there is no
other like it in a room that houses pairs.
He stares his icy glare, he hates it
yet is compelled to touch it.
And I wait. Where is my inspiration?