Acryllic

Balls of paint pool in my palate and I mix to make a shade.
White, taught canvas gets a coat of graphite and eraser shavings.
My superman bowl is filled with tap water, and my "chill music" playlist keeps me company.
Sprawled on the floor, I see no need for an easel...actually I think if i had one it would be used to display other pieces I have already created.
Art is a way to escape.
Like writing words in a journal, colors leap out and grab white-space creating depth and questions that need no answering.
I'm not a painter for the people, but instead I admire my own work because I know why it needed to be created when it did.
They hang on my walls, the paintings...and I remember what I was running from during each of them.
Unlike poetry or music, the paintings can mean whatever you want them to...they don't need words to make sense.

I feel like painting a picture today because today I feel like running.