Today,
I start my morning with a coffee and cigarette.
The two greatest addictions.
Caffeine and nicotine.
Whenever I go out with my sketch book,
I find comfort in the nearby cafe.
It's especially calm when it's sunny.
I love it when the sunlight peeks in through the window.
You might even see a rainbow if you're lucky.
While watching this sight,
I quietly sip my coffee
And sketch the common people passing by.
The lines in their faces and folds of their clothes are imprinted on the thick paper,
Immortalizing different personalities,
Each expression and hardships
And story hidden within the soul.
Sitting here at the table,
I bring out my small palette of watercolors
And bring life to my sketches.
Pink for rosy, smiling faces.
Blue for cold and stolid masks.
Gray for heartbroken and worn frowns.
There are even faces too complicated to paint
And just left colorless.
Green for their sweaters.
Brown for their pants.
Red for their scarves.
Purple for their stockings.
Black for their shoes.
White for their blouses.
Though many people care about their appearance, their fashion or makeup may only show a figment of their true self.
I sigh and close the paints and sketch book.
I'm bored from seeing too many faces.
The neon clock flickers and shows it is almost night.
Better start walking home.
Sidewalks and streets are stained with rain,
Yet the sky says it was a clear and full of sun.
Passing by the electronics stores,
TV screens state sun showers will appear tomorrow.
I reach my apartment door and head inside.
Dirty rags and glasses lay sprawled out over my counter.
Used pots and pans litter my kitchen.
After an hour, it's all spotless and clean.
Sudden bliss and peace overwhelms me
And I feel dizzy.
I take a pack of Marlboro,
Shake it,
And remove one of its harmful, but addicting treats.
I get myself some coffee
And slip back into my comfort zone again.
Laying by the window,
Listening to the conversations of others,
Sketching the outline of the city,
Painting with cool dyes,
Sipping from my black roasted coffee,
Puffing my cig,
Blowing rings of smoke,
I promised that I was going to stop.
Because when I stop this addiction,
I can truly enjoy this vacation.
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Pallete
Poetrypoems (possibly stories) relating to art, which can range from painting to pottery to drawing and much more purpose is to evoke emotion i hope you enjoy reading it! feel free to comment suggestions, tips, or stories you want to hear about PLEASE NOT...
