Walking on egg shells

I’ve mastered the art of sculpting

Emotions on my face in public.

Behind disfigured doors, I’ve got dry clay in a toxic place

It’s sick, how the colours of the world is dominantly grey

Disappointment in my eyes is in the shade of white.

‘You’ll be ok’, they say smiling greenly.

While my iris is hatched in the problems of other people

That isn’t right, you’ve allowed it to effect you.

I’ve allowed a looming shadow to overpower the meaning of my artwork?

To know in my heart that the colours don’t blend, like a conflict between lovers.

You’re saying that I’ve acknowledged the imperfections , to only carve over them

Turning a scarred material into an object worth looking at.

I wasn’t able to dodge the fires between the colours ,they’re in my home.

I’m tired of having to step over them, like shards made by Ghoya’s ghost.

With bleeding finger’s I’d hold onto a needled brush,

Lightly stroking the canvas in the serenity hidden in the shadows, to only find out

That the beauty was in the highlights.

Conceptual photography: Sureal artists