Rothko and Black

"Alack, I have NO EYES"

My breath got caught
I moaned it was heard by them all

Couldn't stay still, could not hold back
to the man reading those lines
a little too well

from scratching out my very own

Pulled out some paper
grabbed chalk outta my pocket, broke it in half

SCRIBBLE
SCRATCH

It was not enough
my friend, it was NOT ENOUGH

I HAD TO DO SOMETHING MORE
and so I began tearing the paper itself,

crunching it with both my hands
flattening it again, to crease where I began

Yes, that was the day I could not turn back

ever since,

I scribble day comes night I cannot stop
while doing so I MOAN
a low sound grumbles from out my gut in my sight dry oceans become sore

I SWEAR I SAW ROTHKO HE TORE OUT HIS EYES

this idea of entombment an OBSESSION
this torture of the self this REPRESSION A SUPPRESSIVE ENCAPSULATION

I think he got caught as well,
DAY AND NIGHT HE WANED INTO BLACK
lest art,
IN SINGULARITY AN OBSESSIVE COMPULSION

MY SOUL it's DROWNING and cracked I'm SCREAMING for help but I don't WANT to go back

a cavernous hole in my chest
which I don't understand

it's OUT OF MY HANDS

A DEATH OF THE SELF I'M VOIDED AND BLACK

I NEED TO SCRATCH
I NEED TO SCRATCH
it won't make sense to anybody ELSE

BUT GOD DOES NOT REMAIN DEAD IN DOING SO I'LL CONDEMN MYSELF INSTEAD

don't try to reason with me,
IT'S OUT OF MY HANDS
IT'S OUT OF MY HANDS