Last Masterpiece

Drain,

Drain my blood and,

Paint your wall,

With my crimes.

Dig your warm fingers

Into my cold blood,

With your lustful eyes

Imagine the painted wall

Let the red dry,

And become your art
Art be your masterpiece
No one to copy
As no one will have me.
Make all those faces,
And those wounds.
Let the color drip
As it would from flesh.
The pleasure of the paint
Remember that no one was saint.
Let not the color faint.
With opera dying with time,
Finish the wall
Let it be witnessed by all
Oh! the last glimpses
Looked beautyful
Paint it before I am empty
Before I am drained of beauty
You once saw.