Concrete concepts about ethereal energies
Allowed Marcus to start to subtle shades of unseeable colors
So he sent his will into the void to draw a picture of what he wanted
The art bloomed into reality. It was magical
His tattoo had a story, but he wouldn’t tell anyone
Every day he wore shorts someone would ask him about it
And he would say it was better than the alternative
Refusing to say why that was the case
That the coronary was now art
** the following story might be disturbing for those sensitive to domestic abuse**
The scars didn’t show. He made sure of that, yet they were a work of art. It was hard to cut with such precision, but he was a master of his craft. He was proud of his handiwork, even if he was the only one to view it.
She bore the scars and wondered why he did this to her. She also wondered why she put up with it, but she couldn’t make herself leave. Every time she thought about it, his voice would pop into her head. It was just words after all, and he was right. Those words didn’t really cut her and make her bleed, yet she hemorrhaged out her hope long ago, and she didn’t have much self-esteem left in her deflated, marred ego. Every night she prayed for everything to end, but her prayers were never answered.
He watched her cry herself to sleep. Sometimes he would feel guilty about what he did. Other artists maimed themselves for their art. He knew he lost pieces of his soul for his creation, but it was a sacrifice that must be done. He was so grateful for his canvas.
He slipped beside her and held her tight.
He sat in the chair, transfixed on the clothed canvas before him, hints of what lay beneath poking out at various points. His anticipation growing by the minute, he was afraid he was going to burst before this was all over.
She slowly revealed her canvas, piece by piece. The art danced before his eyes, mesmerizing him as more and more of the picture was exposed. What he originally thought was a collage of disparate pieces began to coalesce together into one masterwork. Soon everything was revealed and it took his breath away.
She smiled a coy smile. “Want to have a closer look?”
He was shaking as he approached. Even mere inches away the art was unbelievably complex. His excitement threatened to explode. What stood before him was amazing in every way.
She giggled. “I knew you liked tattoos, but I didn’t expect this.”
He blushed. “You’re beautiful too.”
Painting his body with bruises
A cacophony of purples and blues
It really was a work of perverted art
Now she needed to dispose of the canvas
People looking for the facts
Obviously don’t want to interpret
Even if the truth can be found
Through emotional works of art
Filching from the common sheeple was always easy for Mandy
Reaching in and taking a pretty bauble or a thick wallet was second nature
And if she was flirting with someone, well she could take what she pleased
Men especially were susceptible to her charms
Everything was going fine until she decided to move up the food chain
Devon left her literally holding the bag, while he fled with the art