When a Soul Cries to Silence by Syyd
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No AI - This artwork was created entirely by hand or with traditional digital tools.
Description
(My Max texture for Michael)
Whiskey hearts tick in the back bedroom
where the digital read out glows red
like a neon sign above a cheap motel.
All is not lost save my breathless sighs
that force a thirty second ending
to every Saturday night.
I eat your hostile sleep, fetal position,
avoiding the wet stain of fertility.
I say grace.
Nothing grows here anymore.
(Poetry by Syyd Raven)
For Shawn
Poser/Photoshop
Comments (11)
I see a sadness. Very good.
Thanks a lot Syyd, it's incredible!!! The words match my disposition, you are a true friend, in which my deepest thoughts are shared!!
Very nice, I really like the way you match your poetry with an image...great style...true art.
The image and poem are both great. They both have feel of an Anne Sexton poem.
Brilliant, Syyd. Simply brilliant.
This image and poem brings me anxiety. It makes me want to yell "NO... Wait... Stop... Think... An aptitude for sadness is not necessarily a bad thing if you embrace it and never give up.
Beautiful, what can I say more? You know it Sis....Yours Des
Incredible as always Syyd!! A poet as well as an artist.. Is there no end to your talent? I surely hope not!
OH Syyd the words and image are fantastic... just an excellent job...
My GOD!!!
Pic is fine, not one of your best, not one of your "worst", But lyrics, oh, i can just feel that situation.
Love, carries full shopping pags, with hurting back
Love, hoovers that dusty old carpet, liked to buy a new
Love, yields in bedroom, dreaming of prince to come
Love.