I’m painting today
I dunno what
I dunno why
Can I even call it a painting?
Just because I don’t use paint, just because I don’t use a paint brush I’m not a painter?
Have I not painted pictures in your head with my words?
When I wrote about my happiness couldn’t you picturize a happy me?
When I wrote about my heartache you could see tears trickling down my cheeks, couldn’t you?
When you read of my drunken fiestas couldn’t you imagine a sloshed crasiezt stumbling around in high heels?
Am I a painter or what!