You see?
My finger points in vain…
I tremble out of focus, luck.
I see.
My hand firm, shut.
And seen by others, I must stop.
You see?
I pull the canvas from within,
And paint with me.
I must, I’m full.
Will you paint, with you?
Parts of me and parts of you,
Painted, drawn and overdrawn,
Models, fingers, stillness.
All collapsed in meaning.