smoke .

tessar is right, the smoke outside makes everything look romantic. i had no idea what he was talking about, because i had locked myself inside for the past few days. i had spent daylight indoors painting twelve hours a day. i have been drinking every day so far… a mild drunk, a creature of the night. yesterday i was out in the sun, something i haven’t done in at least three days. and tessar is right. it makes everything look romantic. everything was soft as cotton, blurred under a veil of soft hazel. i thought i would see roses and feel rain.. it felt like summer and tickled like agua con gas. it felt like the warm cradle of vodka holding me at the bar… and the pain slips away.

but the pain isnt gone. that’s the thing about smoke.. it masks damage. from my house, it is cotton. i cant see the tears of the families whose homes have been consumed by the flames. i can only feel my own. i received a call today and now there’s burning in my heart. i dont know why yet, but i already feel consumed. perhaps i have a real reason to hermit myself.. and perhaps i have a real reason to drink. but no excuses, excuses are for the weak.

no smoke can romanticize this in my mind. perhaps the acrylic will screen my emotions into a soft, hazel, summer rain.

and now for your (random) viewing pleasure, my pumpkin from halloween.. it was made an hour before i left for vegas