skullfactory

colours of unproportioned grandeur

of bright hues filled with warmth

blinding like the sun, and then

turning sober, soft, bottled

yet beautiful like the canaries that sing

during the quiet hours of the morning

or the stain a rose would leave when rubbing a soft petal

between nimble fingers

of muted colours that speak loud, swirling,

deep, an endless abyss of what-ifs, what could be, and what is

of bold pigments rich in history, crush down copper mixed in with

linseed oil, and where the renaissance brought forth its existence

where frescoes meet with the sky.