A Deafing Sound.
Through closed eyeslids of sleep the words begin to form from thoughts deeply embedded in the world of dreams.
I speak, he speaks, conversations heated with the years of learning the moves of the other. Like a skilled surgeon we use our words to slice open the unprotected layer of insercurties that line the inner layer of our bodies. Slice. slice. slice. Its all ripe and red. The pain is deafing. Makes a great backdrop for a b rated movie.
I scream.
He woke tight eyes distorted face and stiff body.
This time I spoke.
Warm bodies fixed bodies morning air.
This day we use our words for good,for repair to make rich our souls for the days battles.
Malcolm Low
American Artist (born 1973)
I speak, he speaks, conversations heated with the years of learning the moves of the other. Like a skilled surgeon we use our words to slice open the unprotected layer of insercurties that line the inner layer of our bodies. Slice. slice. slice. Its all ripe and red. The pain is deafing. Makes a great backdrop for a b rated movie.
I scream.
He woke tight eyes distorted face and stiff body.
This time I spoke.
Warm bodies fixed bodies morning air.
This day we use our words for good,for repair to make rich our souls for the days battles.
Malcolm Low
American Artist (born 1973)
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