as he walks to the blank campus the room turns black the silent veiwers sit to watch the spectical of a renowned artist paint live...
'a slash of red for my lost love'like a blood splash red bleeds from it
'now your dead inside and you wonder why...' black drools from the top
'anger and agony are better than agony...' slit of puple
'standing on my own...'and put one hand print of white in it
and with a turn and a bow he.....died.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem