Mad Paintings of the Mind

I want to grind an axe through my brain
and blood should splash on walls around.
The swish should be like that of a wand
Magical... Black magical in fact.

And the world will smile at all of it,
Most peacefully.. Quietly...Calmly...
And people will step over my corpse
with their cheap brains in rich portmanteaus
and they will sell it too until they bleed

like a river ,or a tornado or a squished mosquito
and some might be lucky enough to stain a wall or two
so that their rotting blood makes art that can be sold
even when their bodies are bluntly,blandly turning cold.

And when I am finally a ghost,
I'll scream through your empty minds too:
throwing glass jars from corners into your hall
For the axe was yours.
For the wall also was yours