she waited for him to erase her
as he put his pencil to paper
and created her
he traced the upturn of her smile
precisely picturing the laugh that proceeded
he sketched out the smoothness of her legs
intentionally illustrating the eagerness inside
he outlined the curve of her shoulders
carefully capturing the sadness contained
he shaded in the color of her hair
deliberately detailing her fallen darkness
in his eyes
she was more beautiful
than she could ever see herself
but with every stroke
fearing that only inches away
from his creation
was her demise
Would people look at me differently?
If the arts hurt me and left scars instead of a silver that I turned red
If playing my clarinet gave me splitting migraines and blood shot eyes
If typing poems in my notes gave me splinters in my thumbs and tore off my fingernails
If sketching on paper ripped open my hands and gave me blisters
What if the arts were my pain
Instead of a blade that’s now long gone
Would I be better at them?
Would people still pity me and look down on me knowing that the arts harmed me
Or would people treat me differently because I’ve been through something horrific to make something so beautiful
“And it’s the last piano in the world, and its keys cut his fingers with every note he plays..” -Dave Malloy
How does one describe something that has so much more meaning than anything there has ever been?
I am not able to have one underlying emotion for art.
I am not sure there even is one emotion that i have not faced when
I make, take in, or feel some type of art.
It is everything to me.
"Art is the only way to run away without leaving home."
When I make any piece of artwork, it takes me away,
and I have never had that feeling other than when
I have a paintbrush or pencil between my fingers.
When i need to stop my own little world and get away from everything, I make something.
Art seems to be the only form of communication
I desire to use when showing emotions.
I get anxiety when i have to show so much vulnerability as to do something as simple as /talking/ to someone about my problems.
If I could just show someone my artwork instead of speak,
I would choose that any day.
"She is delightfully chaotic;
a beautiful mess.
Loving her has been a splendid adventure."
I guess in some ways i see art as a person.
The only true love I have ever really felt would be with art.
I have been hurt many times and I have always
turned to art because of it.
Shes always been there for me,
while others have let me down time after time again.
Yet she waits there patiently everyday
until I pick up the sketchbook
Found this poem I wrote back in 2013.
I am cursing the rain in bright black and grey ink in beautiful cursive writing. I know you're questioning how black and grey can be bright but If you don't know, you'll never know.
I am painting sunsets on canvas but with pastels instead of neons. It's almost a bit too sad instead of a bit to happy; so fitting for a sun that's disappearing, right ?
I am swallowing pills mixing them with liquor, testing out theories to see if I can find the right way to write. All I see is blurry candle light and a dragon on my wall telling me my writing *****.
And it's sad to think how pessimistic this poem started but how within a 15 minute drive home I've come to see....
That all the rain cleared up the night sky and out came those glimmering ***** of fire we call stars. I've caught myself staring but I always have different emotions with each glance.
Tonight..I guess the world isn't so sad after all.
>>>>>>>>>>i of a well
the more i draw, the more energy i feel expanding my mind.
a o u
k l d
i c s.
n into the
g w myself
v a n
y t h i n g l i g h t e r
(i really can do anything)
I think I would give up the world right now to be able to sketch.
These images appear in my head day and night
making me want to spend hours on end drawing.
Drawing vivid illustrations
The ones that constantly replay in my head.
I want to be able to see some sort
of physical image of me and you.
one that makes the heart melt
one that is lost for words
One that shows
what I see
what I feel
I wish I could explain it.
I can't even put it into words.
these words don't exist!
But I know every single line
of every sketch.
Cherish these memories.
Precious as can be.
Blindly chasing goals,
has is own penalties.
And your enemies,
will swipe your knees.
As best friends,
won't always be.
I'm proud of you,
You not proud of me.
A bond formed, with trust
Will always be most important - you'll see
— The End —