I can’t find those velvet inspirations today, 

no vanilla in my wooden layers. 

Yellow veils, iron submarines and a rattling fan…

all there, you just need a sculptor’s hallucination.

I have always put coloured glasses in front of my edifications…

My mondays are purple and nights are as bloody as red, 

I am the madman of a criminal artist’s world.  

I never wanted someone to wait there for me at the end of a gypsy evening, 

but I needed someone in betweens…I needed some naked souls to touch and to hold for after getting lost inside whiskey’s maze. 

Bursting out of the scenes is not my thing anymore, 

I am on a emergency ward of petrified pirates. 

I guess throwing a poem right at my chin would be the last closure…

Let the commandos come and take me to the madhouse.

……………………………………………………………………

Photo- Google.