Pencil drawing – Still Life
This one’s from a long time ago! I don’t even know how long.
Tag Archives: Sad
Pencil Drawing – In the Hospital
This is… 4 or 5 years old? I went through my sketchbook the other day and I figured I’d post some of the drawings I was more proud of. It’s not often I finish a drawing, haha.
the desperate
people can smell desperation.
being social animals,
they pass the desperate by
sniffing in fear
instinctively knowing
this one has been cut off for some reason
a rotting limb
a toxic trash.
the desperate can be found
in the heart of the city
the pulsing downtown.
wherever people collect
so the desperate are drawn
driven to suck what they crave.
what society will not give freely
they parasitize.
in the center of things,
yet humanity flows around them,
unwilling to touch.
in the center of things,
forever on the fringe.
excluded
for fear of exclusion.
because everyone knows
the stink of desperation
is catching.
Losing her
There is a still voice in my head.
If I meditate I can hear it.
If I follow its mandates, it gains clarity.
It always speaks the truth.
It is the juxtaposition
Of my intelligence
My years of experience
The leanings of my heart
The echo of the Tao.
Unexpected bubbles from the subconscious.
I know it when I hear it.
It always speaks the truth.
She turned down meeting me again
She had a good reason
And I refuse to push.
I trust our friendship.
But the voice said
In clear unarguable certainty
You’re losing her.
I don’t want to believe it.
But the voice never lies.
Maybe I can push a little harder
Regain the fading attachment.
But I am her friend because
I never push.
Everyone else pushes.
Everyone else gets her time.
If I push,
I become the squeaky wheel.
I become the annoying commitment.
I wish I had never thought this thought.
Now it has been given form,
And the power to strengthen
Into a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Are friendships made of fairy dust
Entire worlds jointed together with ephemeria
Just to sparkle then fade?
Are they really composed of convenience?
Am I the only one
Who goes on loving just as hard
Even after I have been left loving alone?
Friends like these
They rise and fall on Fortune’s wheel
Into my life, out of my life
Do they still think of me?
I think of them.
If they came back into my life
If they showed the slightest inclination
I would welcome them with puppy enthusiasm
Happy they are home again.
Am I the only one?
I am afraid to lose this one.
I trusted adulthood
Would keep us connected.
But the voice never lies.
Still There
Anthony touched the pendant around his neck. It had been made for a girl, but he kept it under his shirt and nobody seemed to notice.
He felt the reassuring carved pattern. It was still there.
Last month he had almost left it at a friend’s house after using her shower. When he’d noticed it missing, he felt physically ill. Fortunately his friend had found it. She gave it back to him without questions. She hadn’t needed an explanation. She knew.
He rubbed his thumb over the pattern. It was wearing flat already from his constant fidgeting with it. He had to stop or it would break. He sighed. He couldn’t wear the necklace forever. It wouldn’t last. It was just a cheap dollar store necklace.
He could follow her.
He watched the blood pulse in his wrists. He felt the thumping of his heart. He relished the feeling of his active brain and functional, painless eyeballs.
She wouldn’t have wanted him to.
Tink.
The charm fell off of the necklace, and he caught it in his absently fiddling fingers without thinking. He fished it out of his shirt and examined it.
Bright red flowers. The small plastic loop which connected it to the chain had finally torn through.
He would never be able to repair it.
Sarah D. Silvey 