Dreaming & Painting

No matter how hard I try, I can't shake the dream I have every night. Although the setting is different every night, the context, for the most part, is the same. The people, the feelings, the regret... it is the same every night. Last night was so bad that I woke up at 5:00 and could not go back to sleep. My mind is uneasy, I have very strange unconscious desires. Although there are many things I miss from my past, I want to keep moving forward. I made certain choices that have brought me here. My dreams are way too vivid and that's why these emotions are getting out of control. I want to paint. Painting always makes me feel better, it puts my mind at ease. I am not by any means good at paiting, but I really enjot it. The best feeling in the world to me is laying a blanket out under the cold winter sun, turn on some Coldplay, coffee or wine, a cigarette, and a blank white sheet in front of me. In fact I think that's exactly the cure I need today. I want to feel, I want the wounds gone, I want to paint.


One of my old poems, see the passion has always been there.
Written August 8, 2008:

So paint a picture of a potential love.
Ember skies and future fields of flowers.
A girl who knows a boy,
and a boy who wonders how well he knows himself.
The envious trees and the speak no- nothing stream.
Curious grass and an orange glow.
He fascinates her, she will remain a mystery to him.
The paint will rub on with joy and eagerness.
The truth is the paint is her hope for just one more day.
She will teach him new things if he let's his stubborn heart float away.
The boy from the painting has dark unsure eyes
and will not let go of his past.
All of his emotions are painted with a shakey nervous hand.
Carefree, humorous, and giggly...
the girl from the painting will show him that his spirit remains alive.
She loves him, even though he chooses to leave her as she is.
He knows why he can not, or rather will not be with her.
His heart will remain hurt, he could fall in love with her.
The painter finishes, and lays her work out to dry in the cold winter sun.
He spoke words that meant everything and nothing to her at the same time.
"And if I told her that I loved you, the memory of us would fade."