I am going to paint my first portrait of a man-flower today as i realize that is what i like. I have encountered a few now and i like them very much:
One was sitting with his head propped up by the plinth of his arms, balancing. And his arms were like, i thought, fleshy pink petals, and very hairy. And the hair looked soft and fine. I was sure he was some sort of flower and imagine now a single rose petal pierced by a sharp hair that inspires me to paint it. ‘follicle on the verge of’ will be painted in watercolours and the thought of a bouquet of man-flowers would just be me clasping that arm, but i wouldn't, because the composition is so nice... suspended. Also, once i ate a rose petal, It dissolved like sugar paper on the tongue but did not poison me. So i live to tell the tale and paint the man-flower.
One was sitting with his head propped up by the plinth of his arms, balancing. And his arms were like, i thought, fleshy pink petals, and very hairy. And the hair looked soft and fine. I was sure he was some sort of flower and imagine now a single rose petal pierced by a sharp hair that inspires me to paint it. ‘follicle on the verge of’ will be painted in watercolours and the thought of a bouquet of man-flowers would just be me clasping that arm, but i wouldn't, because the composition is so nice... suspended. Also, once i ate a rose petal, It dissolved like sugar paper on the tongue but did not poison me. So i live to tell the tale and paint the man-flower.
One i give my hand to, limp and open my palm to be touched. But not there. I want to smell him when he is sleeping. His face and tuck myself behind his ear, warm breathing on the neck that makes his skin wet and sticky and it is like i have created a whole atmosphere in that little corner, just under his sleeping profile, a humid space for me to curl into. hush the wow... he is a giant!
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