To No-oneToday, I am officially, by definition, a professional writer. I was paid for an article, and the paper I write for provided it to the public today.
Momentous.
I feel...so proud.
StarvedI am starved,Starved
Not starved like a baby after a four-hour nap,
Not starved like a puppy on the street with nobody to feed it,
Not starved like a rail-thin anorexic who's had nothing to eat but a few diet pills in three days,
But just emotionally ravished.
Starved like a small child who's never gotten a hug,
Starved like a dog that wanders the back-alleys completely alone,
Starved like the anorexic that saw the beautiful girl in the magazine and decided she had to live up to that perfect image,
I am starved.
CharcoalCharcoal,Charcoal
Color of the swirling abyss, the smudge on the nose of a third-world baby, the heart of a close-minded dictator,
reek of toxic fumes out of factory chimneys, taste of mud after a painful nose-dive, stentch of burning rubber in an old junk yard,
The destruction of our society,
Ash, barrel of a shotgun, shrinking pupil of a terrified child,
Gloom, death, oblivion,
Charcoal.
Amazed
--
Click. Click. Ow.
new paintings....
[This is Missy if you didn't know]
--
~98% of the teenage population does or has tried smoking pot. If you're one of the 2% who hasn't, copy & paste this in your signature
"The people have spoken- we demand more mando!" -Chris Thile
--
I like me some cheese.
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