I Paint.


Not on a canvas of course
My hand shakes much too much for that
No
I paint in my head.

Masterpieces

Shimmerring towers of impunity
Castles of future conquests and quests.  
I paint everything.

I paint you

You're a lot nicer in my paintings
Maybe I'm just a good painter.

Anyway
These paintings are so realistic
So vivid.
So lifelike.

I see no reason why they should not exist

Because for one I am a great printer.
And for two I am realist.

So I set forth with my brush
Set upon bringing my art to life.

And I am always so close
The broad strokes each stringing together in a cohesive tone.

But still
If you approach it like a Monet
And examine it dutifully
You see it does not match my original masterpiece.

But how is this possible?

I am a great painter

This I know.

Shouldn't I be able to bring my simplest machinations into fruition?

I am a painter sure

If you belive that an architect is a construction worker

I am a painter

But I only build frames
Not Buildings

In my heart there is a garden
The garden I took so much care of
I dreamed of having simple, beautiful roses
Lovely orchids and colorful tulips

As I grew older my dreams started to change
The garden desired material things
It wanted a lovely fountain in the middle
Sprinklers and cute little gnomes on the side

But as people started visiting my garden
It started to wither as they came and went
I was so busy entertaining others
My garden started to suffer in the process

But once you stepped into my garden it came to life
You repaired every little flaw
You showed me beautiful flowers
But then you left my garden for another...

I'm trying my best to show you I'm happy how things are
But no matter how many flowers I plant
Or fountains I place inside
The only thing I long for is you inside it..

It drank upon humanity like a fine
Wine, pungent in
Hatred,
Loathing,
Malice
Upon another, it drank with a
Steady flow. Intoxicated on the
Evils of
Man,
Woman,
Child
Was the final key, for the seed was
Pure, but know even that was corrupted,
It was a sweet moment in eternity. As it
Drank like never before,
Souls where consumed upon like never before.
Souls were indulged,
As the screams echoed, conscience was
Shredded and turned black. Now empty
Thrown like so many before
Void,
Barren,
Unoccupied
Shell, but humanity was plentiful and darkness
Would be intoxicated on the fullness of
What they had become. We are what we have
made ourselves. Food is for thought, and now
Intoxicated darkness drinks till we are but a shell.