∆Little Wanderer∇ Jøshler

Dix

🌿🌸🌿

"There's a storm inside
My head and
It's killing all the flowers"

-a.k.

🌿🌸🌿

Today is a bad day for Tyler. The sun isn't as alluring as it usually is; it doesn't make him want to rejoice in the warm rays as it warms his tan skin. He wants to be left alone in the darkness of his apartment as his migraine pounds at the sides of his sensitive skull.

The heavy, black blinds hanging above his windows are drawn shut as a tiny slit allows a minimal amount of sunlight. A sliver of sunlight slips through the crack and illuminates Tyler's dark brown eyes as it makes them appear almost like the color of honey.

The easel in front of him has just enough light shining on it to allow his hands to move in careful, rushed strokes. The pool of colors running wild behind his eyes release themselves through his slightly shaky hand holding a paintbrush.

Paint is covering his hands in tiny splatters of variety of shades and pigments. Tiny droplets of depressing black and angry red have even managed to find themselves clinging to Tyler's long eyelashes and sticking to his slightly rosy cheeks.

He woke up with an overwhelming urge to paint, and not his usual paintings either. No Tyler didn't paint a vibrant sunset, or pastel petals on a flower in an open field under a vast sky. No, Tyler was only using red and blacks on the stark white canvas.

A silhouette of a man with features resembling his own begins to appear under the tip of his brush as he dips the brush into more black paint.

After shading in around his facial features and neck he takes a step back to look at the man with a striking resemblance to him staring back at him; ink orbs staring into his real ones. Red and black trailing behind the frame like a deadly cloud of gas.

He thinks about what he should add next as he dips the bristles stained with black into a clear glass of water. He watches as the black washes off of the brush with a satisfying swirl of black clouding the water. He pulls the brush back and wipes the excess dark grey water from the bristles.

He clicks his tongue in thought as he bites his bottom lip gently and puts the freshly cleaned brush to the side as he grabs the brush stained in red; it looks almost like a used harpoon.

He fills in the other side of the black beanie upon the figure's head with a red color, which happens to be  the left side that sports a pure black eye, almost demon like. He slowly mixes the red with the black as it meets in the middle of the hat. Once satisfied with the blend, he leans back and ponders of what would fit with this painting.

A look of realization falls over his tensed features as he hurriedly scrambles to finish the painting in front of him.

He adds small cuts to the left side of his face. The angry, red lines covering his cheek and even appearing over his bottom lip and above his eyebrow.

He quickly grabs a new paintbrush in a hurry to get the image out of his head as he stains its pure surface with more black. Neat strokes colors the left side of the shirt black and stops in the center as he feels out the sleeve; careful to keep the line smooth and not smudged. He suddenly stops as he gets an overwhelming urge to change plans.