Oil dripping from my fingers
Blue, it flows on the floor
People stare as I make them
In Blue, they cry out for more
Paint on brush for a full moon,
And the light that caresses the hair.
Bristles graze in meadows black,
And faces ghost through the air.
I’m fading, and it comes to life.
I drain what I have into it.
I drift streams in the reeds.
I flow on water, on leaves.
I leave the room to take in the scene.
A dream, a fake, a fraud,
just paint that deceives.
I float with the ghosts in air of green,
And stare back at the man who never knew me.