Art

The blush of breath against creation; wind born from the mouth of perception sending life into the veins of what has been struck. Beauty in the shade of compassion, thriving in a glade of torment. Reckoning splattered upon a blank canvas whispering “I need purpose”. Deception bathed in guilt, letting forgiveness blot the stains of regret from the very same easel. Art is condemnation and exaltation in chaotic synchronicity. Harnessed disarray, profound confusion. Oxymoronic clarity. Bloody peace, screaming silence. Conceptual destruction, and subtle suggestion. Art studied you, before you pondered before it. Felt the gush, while you blinked.. Craved while you fed and suffered for your stare. -James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved.