Ingenious, exhausting, a poisonous kiss, like the stinging twist of an interfering nettle leaf – the argumentative lady’s been bleeding from within and it is all wrapped up inordinately

The call of the canvas cannot contain nor contend with the scope nor scale of the nude portraiture which reintroduces itself lewdly before her – submerged in nocturnal bouts of entrepreneurial spirit, one gracious artist proceeds to speak with a pairing of ever after

Locomotive brushes, ultra-emotive and about to gather sonic steed – when alarmed precision meets its estranged maker, blows the whole scene affably open – loves her home, just must learn to worship her own studio

Cordial in pink, green, blue… brave they have to have been these featherbed lips of hers, and something shall bring the man’s subpar subordinates to standing

Wherein the formulaic persuasion pours and thrusts atop of a most trusting perspective, only for the other ones who fail at simply seeing, seizing, a piece of her cigarette-shaped concentration

Making space from absurdly nothing. Nothing all of that spacious anymore

Soon as an iconoclastic comfort zone becomes number one and nowhere else but for utter and complete welcoming disenfranchise

Kahlo’s been moustachioed and making happenstance art matter – from the commonplace contemplation wherein the dart of the heart meets the crawl of the canvas and her salutary hips are sitting remarkably handsome again – calling out her conscientious name

Translucent promiscuity, please… only minus the urge for human touch and tender care, wouldn’t have it any other way