He lives through his sketches,
surviving on frugal meals
mostly bread and wine.

Night and Day,
are melancholic mirrors.

he keeps trespassing between them
ignoring the sense of time
creating a vortex of imaginary visions.

Countless Albino Butterflies,
bathe in his color palette.

color-soaked wings
now seek the blank canvas,

the kamikaze of hues is imminent,
for the art to strive
and the artist to escape,
the meddling reality