i didn't want to paint i just wanted to be great at something so i unghosted my soul, told her to go pick 6 roses out of the garden of my love for the mountains & i pierced my nose w a silver needle that was so sharp i could hear your velvet voice again & it call came back to me in little waves of blue pain and sunflower energy on lined sheets of paper sort of like this one with an orange accent I had to find in Rome behind motorcycles & burnt coffee w out the bitter memory of sugar cookies, only the ones we ate on long weekends by the beach beside the ways in which the sun told us the stories of sunken ships & waves the moon wanted to create at 2:11am on the least windiest days. i didnt bring my brushes w me, but a skateboard and a glass house were enough for a disappearing act & 3 conversations w a wall and spray paint can

On a canvas filled with the lucid brush of the bright current stream
Fragmented strokes of faint nostalgia paint over the entropy of memories
Sometimes with the laughter of my childhood
To remember why I loved and who I lost
And tax my once innocent slate with the dark etches of growing up
Yet, in splatters of colour and black dye
I find the pleasure of reason and life
And a pallet with still so much to bleed

you are a work of art to me.
masterpiece soul.
watercolor tears.
bone structure a meticulously crafted sculpture.
brush stroke hair imperfectly contrived.
calligraphy dripping inked words.
musical melodious voice.
filmography flashes within your eyes.
i wish i could frame you as i see you…
displaying the beauty that that i see…
for you and all to see...

The tears drip down my face like a water color paint
Leaving trails of blue down my ivory skin
My freckle are splattered on by tree bark paint
My irises are covered in azure sky paint
The art of my world
Created by god
Causes me to smile
In the yellow painted sun

Write what you know
Paint what you see
Yourself is much more int’resting
Than whoever you pretend to be

Sing what you hear
Move how you must
Look not to other’s favour
In yourself you may trust

Create and inspire
Astound and amuse
Yourself is an instrument
Go ahead - play what you choose!

One Winter's day the pain will fade
and letting go of you won't be so hard  
so I spend most of my time paining over scars
and bleeding hearts
and trying to live for the art.  
I drown in the sight of you
there's no way to look at you
different shades of blue covers the inside of me
with cold smoke particles glued – (to me)
producing what seems to be an endless sea of clear dew.    
As the snow falls to the ground
white nothingness fill my eyes
and all the window have been opened, and everything falls upside down.
The dying little flowers sprouting out of the snow has been placed in a place I use to call the sky
It's not too warm or too cold I need close my mind even if it’s for a little while.  
You You You You running through my empty head
No words or songs or judgements or thoughts just -You
I need to tip a whole tin of paint over me

Because me and you are through.

New Years
New You

New Fears
New Blue

We all wish to be painted in new colors
But we don’t always get to choose