Nocturnal Artist

When I draw, I get so focused on my work that it becomes impossible to critique it clearly. By either using a mirror, or taking a photo of the work, you can see your work from a new viewer's perspective. I made this .gif from those photos:

My room was a time capsule.
I invited the cat in,
and latched that antique door.
Two loves sat on the bed,
one with dilated green eyes,
and one with a guitar in hands.
They said we would be cast through space,
scaling the stars
in a dizzying fashion.
The room was still.
Preserved on the 28th.
I questioned
the position
of every object.
The medicine on the floor,
the sideways bottle,
the crooked books on the shelf.
I couldn't imagine
a shifting speck
of dirt,
or drinking the rest of my coffee.
We were just three humans and a cat, surrounded by walls and statues.

The word "courage" stems from the Latin word for heart: "cor". "Age" comes from the Latin suffix "aticum", which can indicate action, collection, state of being...

Courage is acting from the heart, or even just the state of having heart. I like that.

Brainsick adj: Mentally disordered.

Brassica n: Plants from the genus Brassica, such as broccoli, cabbage, and mustard.

Bravura n: 1) A musical passage requiring excellent agility and technical skill. 2) A show of daring brilliance.

Brecciate vt: To break a rock into fragments.

Brevity n: Shortness of duration, or conciseness of expression.

Briar n: A plant which has a woody and prickly or thorny stem. (Rose, blackberry.)

Brittle a: Easily broken, cracked, or snapped.

Bromeliad n: Plants from the genus Bromelia, such as pineapple, spanish moss, and various ornamentals.

Bromidic adj: Lacking in originality. (A bromide, in regards to people, is someone tiresome or boring.)

Brusque (also brusk) adj: 1) Markedly short and abrupt. 2) Blunt in manner or speech, often to the point of ungracious harshness.

Brute adj: 1) Of or related to beasts. 2) Inanimate. 3) Cruel or savage.

In my mind I always knew
I didn't have much for looks.
Rather than catching young men's eyes,
I turned my own to books.

Though art and thought occupied my time,
I grew increasingly jealous
of girls who never read a line,
but were still upheld desirous.

With later age
my body changed
my acne-marked face cleared up.
Frazzled hair became soft and tame,
and those books I soon forgot.

Now I've known lust a thousand times,
and with more partners than I care to name,
but I owe all love to my intelligence,
not the beauty I became.

We don't always like what we put on the page. Understatement. The inadequacy can be shameful, disgusting, and painful. Some days, I don't keep more than a phrase. The brushwork seems sloppy, and the proportions are off. I have thrown away paintings and whole journals without regret.