Speed Theatre

My mind is an open canvas, Frozen in tableau and thick with modern atmosphere. Racing past these broken bulbs, Licking the voluptuous curves of an olive tree with our modest eyes. Letting the spears of light that explode into every direction Pierce our flesh with a wild, brutal bluntness. We collide against the wind in a melancholy tone That which resides with the absolute most emerald sea. Never touching the artificial background that exists beyond this glass. The only shield that keeps away the icy rain fall Or the harsh easterlies coming off of the bay. This shield that magnifies beauty and purity Making this scene look perfect, If only from a distance. Then the life is gone, Now this flux has stopped, Leaving us empty and numb, Wanting nothing more than to retreat into our hermit shells And clasp hands as we watch The stage scenery churn.