he lures me outside with a cigarette
he wants “to talk”
he always wants “to talk”
except when it mattered
years & years ago
& years not so long ago
when i tried
& tried & tried & tried
to get him to talk to me….
he’s leaving again
i’m making him leave
& he is sad
& i try not to let his sad seep into my soul…
once the talk is done
we come back inside
& as i remove my coat
the necklace that he gave me for a birthday long ago
falls from its place around my neck
a broken cord
…how much more symbolic can you get?
this self-portrait got away from me. i ended up looking like my mom…again. or tom waits…and what the fuck is up with the coloring?
with all of these journal pages, i think i will re-do them as a finished piece…one day…if i like them enough.
maybe then this one won’t look the way i feel inside.
(or is that a good thing–art wise?)
while doing this, i also did a collaboration with misha who wanted me to paint the hand she had drawn. i like the way this one turned out. i think we should print it up and sell it. misha can do all the sales though–she may not speak coherently, but she has oodles of personality & charisma…probably inherited from her dad 😦