Dirty Hands Make For A Sunshine-y Day

Art. Something I used to see as completely beyond my abilities and never in my future.

And somehow, it's become one of the few things that keep me going. Today's basic drawing class was probably one of the best I've had, though last week was quite the revelation for me. For once, I've been good at something creative. You know, that comes out of my own mind. Because what I put on that newsprint paper with charcoal and graphite is a creation that no one else can possibly recreate exactly, for they don't see the world the same way as I do. And that to me is a completely beautiful and humbling idea. And for all the fear that I used to have to let someone see anything I drew, I've been SHOWING people what I've been doing in class lately. I'm not afraid anymore. For some reason, I've always been comfortable with singing, because the words are always someone else's (though I can't guarantee they'll always be), and playing clarinet or guitar is a tad different because, once again, the notes and chords are on the page for me, concrete and not mine, though through the ever-present musician's liberty I can tweak it to make it "mine" in a way. But art? It's completely unlike that. It's truly mine. It represents the inner workings of my mind in a way that only writing has been able to do before. And yet, it's even a more intimate event than that. For even though the words are from my perspective, no words can express exactly what the eye can see. So today, my hands were covered in charcoal and graphite and all sorts of powdery residues thrice over, but my mind was free for a while. If it weren't for Fridays, I would have given up hope a long time ago.

And now for the poetry. This is...one of my darker ones. Again, fictional (the non-fictional poetry I'm a tad reluctant to debut, seeing as my intents and emotions are a little transparent in my writing of actual transpiring events), and written after talking to an old friend. It's not one of my best.

Unwanted Thoughts
Darkness
Only Darkness
Vision comes into focus
Slowly
White pinpoints glare down
Flicker lightly
Vision goes out
Pictures fly across black
I hear the slam of a door
Green-blue eyes filled with hate
A sob
A slap
"I never did!"
Accusing, hard eyes
Unheard explanations
Another's arms...
Two broken hearts
Whole only together
Never to be together again
Vision comes back
Belongings are gone
Bed is empty
I sob
Darkness...
Only darkness