Every new canvas or wood I begin, starts with a mental insult, turning into a dark alley street fight. All found objects are used as weapons.
Before my image, color, category, or medium is even applied. I somehow discredit or abuse the medium through extrasensory transference or ***** looks. Or am accused of it. After that, the cloth is unforgiving and taunting. And from there, I can not be placated and must defend myself.
Slights and wounds and offensive disrespects are hurled at me in hopes of defeatism and scarring. And my retaliation is never ready. I slink out into a restless sleep and awkward day, clearing my head, deep thinking and do research for inspiration on fighting a wooden bully. The resurfacing of my retribution comes firing back with thought and truth and defense, until my opponent has heard all it will hear and dares me.
From there I take battle in slinging and taping and throwing off-color remarks at this ***** for what seems like days, until I find the weak spot. And then, just pummel. Continue and repeat with a variety of similar strokes. This is when it gets worn out and I can see progress.
Like a beam of golden light. The pressure to finally usurp and overthrow all that has distracted me, is rolled out like a red carpet until the throne is visible. With violent blacks slung up top and lower, all flavors of blue bashed in the ribcage, muddy brown and ash around the knees and lower. And all over, a melting custard of crimson red drips erratic around this terrorizing yet pleading to just finish off this piece of wood or cloth. Covered in a multitude of cheap shots, unprofessional swatches, gorgeous strokes, and derivatives, we wipe the dust and tears and blood from our eyes and finally my opponent yields, and I am congratulated on another battle well fought.

"You don't always win", the board transfers
"Many have been left undefeated and unfinshed, stay humble you're learning wisdom and patience"

These words ring with echoing sound. On my walk home, my painted and smeared, ripped body and mind contemplative of all lessons and struggles, I long to tell Annie about the war I just had.
Will she listen...?

To us, time does not belong
And since reality is wrong...
Live with me in legacy
You're so close already
Residing in memory

Only a hearts twinge and without cringe
My pleasuring in teaching to uke  
A warranty insurance for a more creative you

Ill stand on the needle of your thread, fixed and stable without dread

Get ******* and dragged around by your apron strings

Feel the chain around your neck swing as it stings and swings

Be what your tongue tastes when taking all varieties of temperature

Be the brush you use to finish assignments when they get to be too much

As wine deminshes and glass comes clear, take the role of servant, pour countless refill, until you're ready to be bed in achieving complete fulfill

Rest assured, If you feel fear or need a mirror, allow me to transform into reflection to tell you how beautiful everything you wear
and how to me
you are so dear

We open on an impulse scope
I never knew was there
Heartache is not unlike paranoia
They can interpret signs on any face
She offered a truth saying "He is becoming"
Sustaining trust in a passing grace
running in place to find it enduring
(If I hear you, I'll scream
But if I see you, you'll moan)

Never planned to be this idea occurring later
I feel transparent when you look in my eyes
These trying steps are no longer delusion
Keeping moments close
the hallucination woman

To exist in a world of not only reverie
An illusive mirage to keep reality at bay
Even fantasy hold lines of truth
reinvention of Nerudian love in a coiled ring galaxy
Annie Anne where have you been?
Insisting you're a revenant
Craving your face
Just to see you in the present

(When I taste you I'll bite, to delude illusory years of hindsight)

As the universe continues
to advance develop and decline
with the evolution of adaptation

To engage in a meaningful speech they can't teach

Meeting a one of a kind mate that compliments from the love in her heart

deep longing while she follows her path
so to her I write,
give her words and
multiple pages about her character,
exuded and hidden

Hundreds upon thousands of
letters
words
pages
books...
to include feelings
impressions based on her expressions

Words are going to fall out
the way atmosphere fall over and heed her

And when complied, she holds these efforts in her heart

equated precious birthmark

A compelling and layered embrace,

her arms around with eye lock recognition,

loving insurance her kisses are favorable in luck,

a ****** debate in a lustful ****,

resulting in prolific scientific

my teeth on her ****

her lips on my ****

we lay a mess of our heated sweat

A repetition of prior events
layers and levels all coating the dew pasture  to the sky
Created by us,
using meeting in fate, words from the root, ****** fluids, love scaling up, to patch the blue with internals of scratch shape

My love for you, endures everlasting sleeplessness,
your head to my chest lays the final stick
to my fruitwood nest
your scent will cultivate
a woodland stream
in a single sense of clarity
can comfort this body
this profound beauty you possess,
extends a distinct paralyzing permanence over my fateful transience,
our afternoon of initiation,
impart transcendence over all other days spent,
in a hats off, upper hand revolution, unsurpassed
My highest conceit ranks leagues above
as I give my resolve in contented surrender

Oh sweet father
Archetype of a man
Determined artisan
Architect of life
Aged without any ego
Balance in the throes
Passed on regrettable genes
Always wore your wedding ring
Hoped we were dead you screamed
Just to name a few things

Oh grandfather
the eminent
My true father so evident
Worked a gold cast
Until it broke your back
Aged without ego
Stable through hardship woes
Your blood didn't run in my veins
But I would gladly take your genes
Always wore your wedding ring
Born a quiet cool
And as calm as a summer spring

At times I wonder if you are stable and how you are able.
You lay in the bed for what seems like days on end without food or water to begin
In the deepest part of your sleep, you let out a howling wail I can only resemble as a boy in heat
When I come up to check on you, like any crazy human you'll either shoo me away or rub my head so true
After you hibernate in numbers, the amount of milk you consume would put me in a diabetic overdose slumber [to be welcomed]
When you go to the room where waters pour from the ceiling and *** in a bowl of water that looks refreshing and appealing
That's when out comes the dragon, throat roaring, bloodshot vision, blowing smoke like a continuous cannon
And you'll stand and stare at the mirror, this you can't hide I've been with you a long time here
Not looking at yourself or your grooming, you look at what you've become and why you can't bury six-deep this glooming
And truthfully, I get it. The solitude, the independence, the struggle to live alone, when you leave every morning and return at dark
After having many companions around and now not. I'm the last cat standing as well, I get it
The desire to be nurtured and massaged only to be shoo'd away more than half the time
To eat the same foods day in and day out
Have a growth of hair breed on your face and body and scratch the itch feed that need, only to wake up everyday looking like yesterday, I get it friend
We have an innate nature to feel our peculiarities are alienated, but our similarities are there and that can not be denied or debated.

Thoughts on You, from the cat