Dead Muses
|
Dead muses, clinging to the parts of me that have no eyes to see the changes necessary.
Some of them look like me. It is hard to discern when I am escaping self and when I am escaping a dried up muse. All of them dead hands. Dead hands grasping and gripping and pulling like a sick lateral gravity. Escape is when you can see the light and feel the pull. If you do not see the light or feel the pull, you are in stasis. They have you.
|
Ho this is sooo cool… I really like the composition and the fact that we really feel the struggle to get away… there is hope I guess, since the white dove did escape!!
Thanks Isa! Once again, I feel I struggle with green hues. I should probably consult the master! AKA you.
Frightening! But there’s hope yet. Wow, Rubin. This makes me feel so anxious. Run away! Go toward the light! They are so darn scary with those teeth and demon eyes. The complexion doesn’t help either. Eeek! One even has your tie. Not your pingk tie!
I never thought of a muse as dead, but you’ve planted something dangerous in my brain. It’s great to see you posting again. I’ve missed your work!
Oh yes. Muses die and linger and cling to us. It’s like trying to change the song stuck in your head.