Dimension: Canvas



Never before was I to delight a suchlike chef d'oeuvre

Its mere presence imposes a taciturn remaining on me



Myriads of galleries I have walked, indeed

But which master could brandish a palette of equal birth?

A fragile colour scheme scattered upon the canvas

Shapeless in its sublimity and meant to endure



An insidious urge embraces my psyche

To haphazardly drown me in a spiral suction

Disgorged and spawned from the deviant

The frame now resembles a coffin for the gist

Impiously mounted in disgust

With fever being the artistic medium



An apathic journey towards delirium:

Indispensable knowledge to interpret this cryptichon



" Dismal relique,

Hideous parody of anthropoid contours,

You are far too monotone in your expression!

So cease, obscure phoenix, cease to rise..."



Morose, I scrutinize each and every feature

And endeavour to focus beyond the blatant

Still, deranged I am forced to give up

To languidly regret all of those "whens" and "whys"



In a final writhing with pain

I try to summon the significance of this allegory



Queer aftermath, confound me not!

On the spur of the moment I become aware

That I peer at the ridiculous effigy of the painting's creator

I am left to discern in frantic turmoil

That the draughtsman has worked his canvas in glass...!