(no subject)
A swirl of lines, a vague form on worn canvas. I am a rough sketch, a gesture..waiting to be created. Empty, blank, incomplete. I need your skilled hands to grasp the brush once more. Wash the color over me I beg of you, pour your blood and tears into this vessel. Dip your brush into the inkwell of eternity. Fill this aching inside of me. Make me real. Make me beautiful. Make me your masterpiece.