Gouache, Water colors, and ink. A collaborative piece with my good friend and mentor Daniel Rice. Dan did the detail on the left.
Left again, Without say or pay,
Only took my tools and sanity.
Like an iron rod in a bridge,
I yanked myself out.
Cement chapter, now weaker.
Set foot on the sidewalk after,
Felt strong despite the exhausting cost.
Sober in the whiskey-fog, I continue to burn out each rat hole I find,
With no veil of guilt over my mind, it’s quite cathartic.
Hoping to settle in a bird’s nest up ahead.
Have to find a place to hide.
Trying to remember why
I burrough in the first place I try.
Among the vultures,
Scoundrels and rats now.
Though they’ve been my hosts,
They’d gladly accept my death
Inside their homes.
Only to later munch on what flesh I have left.
So I keep my eyes on the ground,
Charge with light strides,
Looking for something I thought I lost.
All the while,
With some notion of hope.