I wake up in the morning and paint.
I paint feverishly.
I can't wait
Can't wait
To ruin the purity of the white canvas.
Cover it with my melancholy.
And cover my melancholy with pretty colors.
I'm addicted.
It's an addiction..
Sometimes my hands
My hands
They itch to hold a paint brush.
Sometimes I can't sit still.
All I can think is painting.
Painting my melancholy.
It makes all the bad go away.
Not for long though.
I always am in need to paint again
And again
And again.
I like to paint all day
all day!
Those are the good days!
The dark is easier to handle.
Painting from sunrise to sunset
And a little more after.
It's my pretty addiction...
I paint to feel...
YOU ARE READING
A shitty Artist with a shitty head, writing shitty poems
PuisiJust as the title says.
