Broken pencil tips, scattered shavings peppering the floor.
Colored pencils with chewed ends and waxy bits fill my briefcase.
All business here, hard at work on the daily.
Would you like a portrait drawn of your personality lately?
Cracked skulls and broken bones, with hints of red paint splattered in the background.
Neon lights and smoke signals, deep green lakes shrouded in fog in the distance.
All of these things, piecing together a picture of your likeness.
And I sit with the tools of my trade, blades to sharpen my wooden spears as they tear across the canvas
The rubber bricks that scrape across the angry mistakes
But with innocence, sitting idly, doodling into oblivion.
The yellow plastic crayola briefcase holds 47 different stems used to brighten the darkness I paint of you.
Pipe cleaners and fake daisies litter the serious work with a simple joy, in unison with the sparkles and glitter.
Criss cross apple sauce on the floor, little pink screwdrivers and cerulean hammers spread about,
The aura of this portrait is coming out in the expressions carved into the palate you have given me.
Angry lines and foreboding greys and blood hues, and cool creeping colors that seep into your skin,
Crawl in juxtaposition to the bubbly universe outside the box.
Keep the anger and fear and sadness on the paper, keep the ugly and the bitter and the unsavory away.
In my briefcase, I only keep the tools.
The happy little helpers of art and beauty.
Please keep all the bad away.
Please keep all your mad away.
Please take your portrait and leave.
Thank you for your business.