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[thebohemiansoul]

Art is an exorcism

[thebohemiansoul]

Blue

The canvas stayed blue. Every drop of thick acrylic paint I poured in just got blended into deep endless blueth. The trees I painted had blue canopies, their barks shed and glistened in the ground like burned blue carbon shreds. I stared into the countless blue stricken irises that looked back from the bushes. I wanted to paint sunflowers, dandelions and carnations in yellow and orange and red. But my brush didn't seem to tell them apart. Say who would paint a sunflower blue? No matter how much I tried to trace every flower just as much different as each of them were, my crooked paintbrush stroked the bluest hues over them. Exasperated, I stopped making shapes, I didn't care, I stopped striving to carve out the fine lines on a dandelion flag or making that little smudged notch inside the rose petal. I let the crazy brush have it's way. My throat burned and I tried to drink from the blue lakes on my canvas. Blue jays shot out from my brain. Every butterfly that made into my brain through my eyes, transformed in to a blueshot tint where every eyelash lost in my eyes lay in a crumpling heap. The white of eyes were blue. My skin was a poisonous blue. My nailes , a sickening blue. My heart was a bluest blue. Still my brush kept lashing out blue paint, hungrier than ever. It broke a blue ink bottle my dad got me in second grade. It squeezed the blue dye out of my periwinkle prom dress. It dipped into the swirls of the fish pot beside my window, killing the fishes. I stood looking into their eyes, a dead open blue. I gave in to my brushes. They drew fresh blue blood out of me. They patterned around me. I oozed out the blues out of everyone and everything I found ,for my greedy brush. One day when I woke up, it had dyed my hair blue which fell in locks around my wide eyelids. I smoked blue weed. Blue clouds stuffed me in. Starved of blue juices my nerves hurt. I went berserk for new blues. I was bare, naked in my blueness. Finally I broke into my books which were lurking out of sight, fearful of surrendering their blue leafs. I ruffled through them, eager with my brush hung in midair and then my fingers hurt on a page. I squinted down it, struggling with a hundred hooves pounding on rising blue earth. In there a line shone out bright red. 'I love you. ' , it said. I looked down to my fingers, scarlet pimpernals bloomed from them.