2 smudged fingers

Desert place crossing

In sea of denial.

Two smudged fingers

record your style.

The wind is fierce

My hair is wild.

Just like it was

When I was child.

Two smudged fingers

 Flatten and smooth.

Highlighting the way my figure moves.

The white of light

 and blue waves of fright.

Show exactly how I sat in sight.

Brown hair down and looped around.

My graffiti going underground.

The finger smudges

And before the judges.

I stand and look

A

Sinister smile.

Because this my friend

is sometimes my style.

And that is why I cannot smile.

Wrinkled cloth

 of brown and block.

Every time I beat the clock.

Splatter Poem painting NO. 1