You choke the shaft of the brush,
wet the tip with what looks like spit
and begin to stroke.
I blush and hush my screams,
from seeing the streaking paint cream,
leaking onto your fists.
Yet you maintain a firm grip and
giggle at how I’m stoked
from your every brushstroke.
You’re talented, creative and reckless
when you allow the paint to spray onto your canvas.
You finger paint with the clumped up droplets and
smile at the masterpiece you accomplished.
While ignoring the paint sprinkled around your eye sockets.
Dissect the Dialect 