Tick Tock

Tick Tock

Tick Tock

Till it all crashes down.

All of it,

crumbling down.

So…

What I mean by that is,

hmm,

I stopped painting a while ago.

Stopped sculpting.

Stopped making messy pictures on my skin.

Every time I didn’t want to feel,

The mess in my head translated

into a mess on my arms.

And I painted until there was no paint left.

No space left in the room,

for one more canvas.

Yesterday,

someone bought me a tub.

Not filled with colours.

Not filled with beauty.

But anger.

Sorrow.

Hatred.

Resentment.

Pain.

It sat there for a while.

Breathing.

Waiting.

But my head was filling

up and up,

with more anger than I’ve ever carried.

And I…

Punched the ground so hard,

Until even that pain wasn’t enough.

So I finally opened the tub.

Created one more space by a corner,

That was hidden by other artworks

I ripped the tub wide open,

Stared at my paintbrush,

And felt its sharp edges beckoning.

So…

just like a ticking time bomb,

It counts.

Three,

Two,

One,

And to my detriment,

I start painting again.