I STAY HARD, and at least 100ft away from schools.

I don't do commissions, I don't care about your cause, your beliefs, your health, or anything about you outside poetry and physical art. I am not nice, I am quite crude with my jokes, fuck you, leave me alone. If you got past that and think you still wanna talk to me, please do. I'm just trying to avoid the blue hairs and sensitive folks that don't have any real life problems. If you have real world experience, you're welcome here.

[bluecollarbrushworks]

I know it's a generic poem, but I just wanted to write something. I feel too tired to draw and I try to practice some form of art daily. So, here's another short poem about my favorite little shit, Wheeler.

She drinks the water from a hose

Shakes her head as the water throws

Candid sprinting brings delight

A tug-of-war, a joyful bite

A tongue that finds a boogers treat

She'll lick your nose, a disgusting feat

Sleepy nights fight restless days

Snores at rest and barks in play

I hold so much love for this little one

The spice with sweet, like cinnamon.

[bluecollarbrushworks]

A pleasant gray that meets my lungs

A pleasant rise, inside, begun

A complex tinder of smoldered green

A complex mind, no longer keen

A single act of desperation

A single breath of lonely elation

A foggy brain, a mental sauna

I do(n't) love my marijuana.

[bluecollarbrushworks]

This is maybe the most visually powerful poem I've written so far, in my opinion. As always, I'm struggling with a title for it and suggestions are welcome! Feel free to correct mistakes and offer structural criticism. This took me a bout a week to write, and I think my language may be too basic. I need to consult the good ol' thesaurus.

Slice my eyes and put those chips through a stereoscopic viewer - you may then see my calloused skin.

Tan my skin for fancy leather - you may then experience what binds me together.

Crush my bones to dust your brain - you may then know why I keep no company.

Trade my brains for matted will - you may then be right to smother my ideals.

Burn my will with your sulphuric sorrows - you may then force my hand.

Tame my hands with whips of fear - you may then see my calluses grow

[inkskinned]

it isn't that i can't do it alone - but sometimes i feel it more, you know? i come back to an empty house. i have no one to text hey the flight got delayed, just letting you know i'll be a few hours late.

most of the time this is okay, and i bask in the quiet. i make myself a new and fancy recipe. i bake treats for my dog. i take environmentally-shameful-length showers. i often like being alone. i like to sit and have the world hold me in a palm like a mercury spill.

but then the small things. i kind of want to see one of the touring broadway shows. or a particular movie. i just want to tangle my legs into someone else's while we eat popcorn and talk about our favorite types of tea or something. it's not that i can't handle any of this by myself - i do, i am happy doing so - but i sometimes cut the orange in half and wish i could peel it for a second person.

i am cheerfully and chipperly informed that all things can be fun and exciting by yourself. i am reminded that loving myself should be the first and foremost goal. i am jokingly informed that if i just hold out, my wife will appear in the clouds as if i wished for her - but that i shouldn't drive myself crazy by looking. i ground myself in my incredible friends and support. i do it all the "right" way.

it's just - i had a long day today. and i wish i had someone's hand to hold about it.

[bluecollarbrushworks]

This is maybe one of the most beautiful essays or anthologies or whatever it is that ive ever read. Im 30, still single, no kids, and as time goes on less and less family. I either lose them to death, or they turn out to be back stabbing betrayers that do nothing but take all of my energy and only scowl at me in payment.

[m00wd]

A person raised in love and another raised in survival, will never see the world the same way.

—M00wd

[bluecollarbrushworks]

I hold you close, from miles away.

[bluecollarbrushworks]

I didn't draw today, but I did make like 7 poems so I call it a successful art day

[bluecollarbrushworks]

Potentially controversial opinion : physical art is more impressive than digital art, but digital art is pretty rad sometimes. And I'm pretty sure digital art is far easier, though I don't have toes to tip on there.

Thoughts?

[bluecollarbrushworks]

Visceral red vines

Please do not call EMS

Spurting from my chest

No blade or bludgeon

A rip of bone and flesh

Torn by those who know

[bluecollarbrushworks]

Nice. If my follower count never rose from here, I could die content

[bluecollarbrushworks]

Hope is a double edged sword without a hilt and a scabbard of thorns. Hold too lightly and it will slice down your palms, hold too tight and you'll lose the ability to hold onto anything.

[bluecollarbrushworks]

The working man without work should steel himself from ego's smirk. Craft a tool, a skill, a seed and he shall flourish without the greed that burdens those who have - have lost, everything but that what costs their soul, their minds, humanity.

If that strikes wealth, then poor I'll be.

[bluecollarbrushworks]

Stuck by mud

Stuck by blades

Stuck by myself

[bluecollarbrushworks]

Cursed by a woman's nurturing hand, I craft a fantasy of love. I nearly remember the feeling of her hand in mine as I lay alone, a false memory. We sang often and off key, an echo born in my mind. When July screams at over 100°, that warmth will still be stolen by my own reflection. My mirrors show the lines of pain and hate, and I stare longingly into them hoping her ghost will embrace me one more time. And, maybe, my reflection will smile back at me with her.

[bluecollarbrushworks]

We're living in a simulation, folks!

[nothingspecialjustasoul]

It’s hard to accept how easily I became nothing.

[bluecollarbrushworks]

He's getting there!