the old man stank
but he
stank more
of ***** and cheap
tobacco than
filth
his mouth missed
a lot of
teeth
and his eyes
would never
look
in the same
direction at once
but worst of
all were his hands
Now those were
really messed up
He claimed he had
paint tanks
under his nails
and he wasn’t lying
he was mad
but not a liar
He could paint
wherever he was
on any surface
And he did
pressing the stump
of his fingers
against walls and
furniture
triggered immediate
bleeding
and then he
would trace on and
draw something
Usually a ***** or
some hairy **** or
some silhouettes
******* or
something like that
Then he’d step back
admire his creation
and laugh
and **** at his
****** fingers
Ol’ ****** Brush
was a celebrity
around the
block
He never had
to buy a
drink for
himself
There was always
someone to treat him,
an admirer
a fan, a disciple
Yeah, at 66
Ol’ ****** Brush
was living the life
unlike other wannabe
artists who devoted
their existence to
the craft and got
nowhere
These guys,
they had the talent
and the drive
bout Ol’ ****** Brush,
he had the madness
and the world
was coming to learn
the difference