Oh, the brush glides easily, cross the page, a curved line.
A shame how the dark ink is nothing but darker in the dim room, a clean line unnoticed by anything but myself.
Watch as the ink dissipates into the water, leaving the brush as easily as it came.
Good bye black ink, you’ve had your turn, left your mark.
Now, for some white, a new colour for a new line.
Cross the page it goes, slide it does, alongside the remnants of the late black ink.
They look so harmonious together, don’t they?
Contrast so strong I need sunglasses.
Though the room still fails to notice, regardless of the white’s pure brightness, what an ignorant dolt he is.
Away with you white, you as well dissipate, mingling with the black wisps in the pot of water.
Red is bright, red is strong, maybe the room will notice if red makes its debut.
Jagged, brush leads me across the contrasting lovers, as if trying to stitch them together.
They will be together always now.
Yes, it looks fine, I like it.
I will ignore Room as he ignores me, for I am the creator, and he is the critic.
The red joins its contrasting friends in the watery afterlife.
Yellow, surely you will catch the attention of Room, for you are the brightest and merriest of all your kin.
The brush leads me to the empty space above the two stitched lovers.
In circles I brush, they are strangely therapeutic.
Yes, like a bright sun now. Now Room will notice, without a doubt he will.
Just to be sure, let us make another sun.
Circling ‘round I go, merry as ever.
Room, gaze upon what I have done, what I have created!
All for you Room.
...
The red returns, random and splattered across the picture.
Looks good, it does, across the stitched lovers and the two suns.
I am in a new room, a real room.
It is dark, save for the blue and red which alternates against the back wall.
And it rains against the window.
Pitter patter pitter patter...
A shame how the dark ink is nothing but darker in the dim room, a clean line unnoticed by anything but myself.
Watch as the ink dissipates into the water, leaving the brush as easily as it came.
Good bye black ink, you’ve had your turn, left your mark.
Now, for some white, a new colour for a new line.
Cross the page it goes, slide it does, alongside the remnants of the late black ink.
They look so harmonious together, don’t they?
Contrast so strong I need sunglasses.
Though the room still fails to notice, regardless of the white’s pure brightness, what an ignorant dolt he is.
Away with you white, you as well dissipate, mingling with the black wisps in the pot of water.
Red is bright, red is strong, maybe the room will notice if red makes its debut.
Jagged, brush leads me across the contrasting lovers, as if trying to stitch them together.
They will be together always now.
Yes, it looks fine, I like it.
I will ignore Room as he ignores me, for I am the creator, and he is the critic.
The red joins its contrasting friends in the watery afterlife.
Yellow, surely you will catch the attention of Room, for you are the brightest and merriest of all your kin.
The brush leads me to the empty space above the two stitched lovers.
In circles I brush, they are strangely therapeutic.
Yes, like a bright sun now. Now Room will notice, without a doubt he will.
Just to be sure, let us make another sun.
Circling ‘round I go, merry as ever.
Room, gaze upon what I have done, what I have created!
All for you Room.
...
The red returns, random and splattered across the picture.
Looks good, it does, across the stitched lovers and the two suns.
I am in a new room, a real room.
It is dark, save for the blue and red which alternates against the back wall.
And it rains against the window.
Pitter patter pitter patter...
Last edited by Molly on Mon Jul 12, 2010 8:17 pm; edited 1 time in total
