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letra de the painter drinks the poison* - nick zazove

[verse 1]
she was seven days my senior, red lipstick, thick gl-sses
diamond eyes shine behind them, planted in the patchwork
dripping off the canvas, bleeding roses, c-ke, and glamour
yet still the chapter subdivides to masquerade the patterns
i’m trudging through the ashes, the sandbox floats above us
she chalked the umbra tucked under the tundra shucked and b-mped up
to finger-paint the gaps between the letters, scarlett
wrote the ending first then set a course for zen before she let up
but then i mope legato to the mistletoe, the legal throes
the hero cloaked in zeroes plucked from ego drudged in glummer credo
mirroring the madness housed by loveless nights, posterized
six starry nights of hers are flooded by my smoldered gripes
she turns the page to sconce her structure, anatomy-
fails, unless you terraform the lapidated juncture
the paint cascades down the paper chase, i face her-
with an awkward grin, she turns the page and skips rocks on the afterthought

[bridge – whisper]
draw lines in different places just to shape a remedy
if the ambit’s doubtful, scr-p a castle from your effigy
nothing ever changes – life’s a threnody for preservation
when sh-t aligns, it’s all a brainstorm for the end location-

[verse 2]
five days per week are spent in reveries and hieroglyphs
sifting through valhalla’s shades of rosemary- imbibe the fifth
feed the cell, sort the gridlock from a speak and spell
i cauterize these shadows then benumb them to her inner h-ll
she scribbles lines to memorize, to size up prime-time
implying hindsight divines her mind’s eye, it’s my lie
i’m truly breaking chimes between the fringes
i break down every inch to stain my bloodless story vivid, take the vintage:
she graces through the vineyard, she races through the tincture
she reuptakes the paint between the strokes to heal my misery
four days to midnight clocked in daylight held in honey jars
spilled over a palette of regrets tied to a monkey’s paw
nothing like an act i impression curbed by pedigree
act ii, i’m reeling in condolences through a pipe-dream
despite the gauzy third one spading hues fused over high seas
it paints itself: a sunset on the beach glued to a kite string
it paints me: the ichorous horizon stretched behind the picture
paralyzed inside extemporary tick-tocks
the timeless mark of existential reason often sinks in-
as the lack of it within its own convenience
four nights drawn out of the bristles by a thick glare, she sits square
in the phallic stage, where each corner condenses me to thin air
at high noon, she takes my hand and leads me through a dreamscape
rainbow streaks superjacent to sp-ce, light bends through each plane
our names etched in the canvas act as power for the framework
i reach across the page and pull it back to make this last forever
she becomes the painter as i forfeit my control
the image of her swells inside my soul… make it whole

[bridge (lead in)]
three days of pillow talk, pill bottles fly
she’s a diamond in the twilight strung by honey, milk, and fireflies

[verse 3]
yin-yang duality, autumn dusk, awaken to
a coronated deadlock drenched with bedrock, dreams, and xanadu
maybe it’s a simple way of saying this is fruitless
a barricade i build over my chains to guard my hubris
to reinforce the looseleaf as the maple croon: the daydream blues
a giving tree, shading us from all projected vacancies
i hope these words suffice for timid silence, a newspeak-
branched from abnegated mileage, moonshine, and dingy outlines
two days of balance in the act between the pathways
a parallel desire meets its maker in a gr-ss plain
our hands meet, the lines we drew fulfill the vibrant landscape-
on the last day, we melded into one: this was the p-ssage-
of fate

[outro – (whisper) second pick up; different phrase. last 26 seconds]

(you will never be the same) x6
(you will always be my muse, with an umbrella in the rain)

(you will never be the same) x6
(you will always be my muse…)

- nick zazove

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