Poet 11586

The end of the artist

With the paint on my fingers I draw again.
Draw a drawing that has no end.
My lines twist and turn like the folds of my mind,
look in the creases and horrors you'll find.
Yet, I call to you, "do look closer!"
For my mind is only numbing faster.
And as the curled lines lose their life,
I lose mine.
I find insanity speeds up the passing of time.