It was a Tuesday
I tripped in full stride
I blame the house which was fragrant with a stale caffeinated aroma
It seemed rational at the time going for a walk with bare feet on hot coals
I’ve done more
or less
For some perverse introspective frivolousness

I took the road less traveled
which looking back was more like a rutted, run-down  underground expressway
I kicked at beer cans
Tripped on broken guitar strings
Blotted melancholy on crumpled  cocktail napkins where now meaningless prose once had meaning
the ******* led my way
scattered carelessly
discarded thoughtlessly
left to clean up the mess

I walked past doors left open absentmindedly
deliberately pushing them closed
Passed windows broken where shards of glass still held a dim shine
Letting  my bloodied fingertips trace a path along the wall as I loitered

A few times I sat
mulling over the graffiti left behind
everyone leaves their mark
picking at loose paint with my fingernail at what I once thought important
now not even a decent curiosity
just reminders of wannabe artists whose color faded when they explored the same terrain

I walked farther deeper
into the all too Familiar  
down an almost unrecognizable hallway I never dared to venture
one I didn't even know existed
That’s when my fingertips ran into
red
velvet
wet
where my feet settled in fresh paint

Sinking into the red I felt a slow
steady drip from above splash on my lips
flushed with a burning need to suckle at the source

Drip

Drip

Drip

I smiled and thought

*Finally...  
an artist with some ******* talent!