starving artist

we're alike me and cat. a couple of poor nameless slobs.

Music is the only thing that makes sense right now. With a rush of notes it sends you spinning.

Rupert enjoys it, he closes his eyes and escapes to places far away.

I have been sketching again. Just a simplistic drawing: a man with an outstretched arm, grasping an apple in his hand with a stem and a leaf attached to it.

it's nice.

I did a rough copy, to attempt the grayscale complications of the piece and discovered that the rough copy wasn't that bad. It was a relief to know that I still hold some artistic talent. I haven't drawn since highschool, it's something I don't want to lose.

Drawing and writing, I need to do more of. Also reading.. and tea drinking. Because there is nothing wrong with those either.

The flowers that were on the kitchen table have disappeared. They were quite a pair. They blossomed and opened showing the world their beautiful colors. they drooped over the side of the vase. The stems were too long to hold such exquisite blooms. The beauty did not last unfortunately. With a simple touch the petals fell off, and the flowers began to wilt rather then sit beautifully. They had been taken from the roots and struggled to drink the water they sat in. The water was not the same as the nutrient soil they once sat in.

Water is a treat for plants, a treat that plants search for and when they find it they have to equally distribute it throughout the plant. They grin and giggle to themselves. Almost in a drunk stupor. Rupert thinks that water is similar to wine for plants, it brings the color out in the petals cheeks and makes them smile and dance in the wind.

When a flower is plucked the water that they sit in is too strong for the flower to endure. The flower drinks the wine-water too fast, it's beauty is magnanimous and then it is taken from it with the hangover that is soon to follow, it's stem still rests in the water. All it can do is keep drinking.

It drunk itself to death.