Bloody Painting

An insinuating vanishing death leaving love to question it's essence.

To be let go, yet remembered,

I craft the plan of self-deceit:

To feed the pigs with human flesh,

Find release through their feces.

 

Abandoned land, a house ahead:

Perfect place to lay a day...

Pigs are starving, no denying

I'll make sure the beasts are fed.

 

Framed a linen cloth so white

To be painted with delight.

But why frame what is not done?

Hidden life, abandoned farm.

 

Beneath me, the pigs lay:

"Good news, pigs, it's feeding day!

Trouble yourselves not for the gun...

I burned my clothes to get this done."

 

Canvas shaded by my head,

Goodbye message slowly read.

"Bloody Painting" is to come

For you only, my framed blood.

 

Search for me or do not,

I'll be watching either way.

I might have been dead to this day.

Plenty pigs to splatter blood...

Author's Note

Imagine this as a question of love.

Reviews

[Zeph]

Very nice!