Maybe I'm just bored
With *******
Or maybe the brush
Just fells better
In my hand
Or it could be the colors
That distract
The blood flow
Up
Instead of down
Or maybe its
Something deeper
Gnawing
At my
Flesh
From within
My bones
****
Its the silence
And
The solitude
And the
Darkness
Spilling out
The ugly
Truth of beauty
Of
Spending
Time
Alone