A painting (digging into the canvas with oil)

There is no rustle, no squeak
Everything got stiffened behind the window
As on a silent painting
Taking a life away into the paint
Everything is keeping breathless silence
Existing without sense
And digging into the canvas with oil
Everything got stiffened behind the window
Questioning despondently
Where is the artist that has been deprived
Their life of title to sense

The paint crumbles with a gore
Disclosing the true inner of the painting
Through the threads, bandages, dried clots
It's not the canvas
But the glass that got exposed

The blind destiny in a mirror's space
Opened beyond the distance and time
A reflection without light behind
Immaterial abyss is empty
But suddenly a movement of a brush
Is drawing an image where I've been before
How scary it is to acquire a sight
Know oneself for the first time
From the other side of a plate glass

My light is faceless...oh no
There is a scream behind the layers of paint
An almost extinct pain
A moan broke through the layer of oil