The Reflection

All I see is a reflection of myself, how young I used to be. Right now all I see is an old man starring back at me. I have lost everything I own. I am a slave of my own art. It consumes me and it keeps me sane through my dark times. I cut my ear off to stop the dark voices in my head. I paint all day with a bottle of absinthe in an old cafe. Wearing my favorite straw hat with candles lit my head. I could feel the wax dripping on my lips while I painted ugly old women sitting alone in a bar. My art keeps me alive. People say I have the gift of color and that I am insane. They say my art moves people into a wonder like a dream. While I walk through the breezy wheat fields I see blackbirds over my horizon. I stand in grassy field with my paintbrush softly touching my cheek starring up at the clouds. I am in peace now knowing that this will be my last masterpiece!