the old man stank
but he
stank more
of booze and cheap
tobacco than
filth

his mouth missed
a lot of
teeth
and his eyes
would never
look
in the same
direction at once

but worst of
all were his hands
Now those were
really messed up

He claimed he had
paint tanks
under his nails
and he wasn’t lying

he was mad
but not a liar

He could paint
wherever he was
on any surface

And he did

pressing the stump
of his fingers
against walls and
furniture
triggered immediate
bleeding

and then he
would trace on and
draw something
Usually a penis or
some hairy cunt or
some silhouettes
fucking or
something like that

Then he’d step back
admire his creation
and laugh
and suck at his
bloody fingers

Ol’ Bloody Brush
was a celebrity
around the
block
He never had
to buy a
drink for
himself
There was always
someone to treat him,
an admirer
a fan, a disciple

Yeah, at 66
Ol’ Bloody Brush
was living the life
unlike other wannabe
artists who devoted
their existence to
the craft and got
nowhere

These guys,
they had the talent
and the drive

bout Ol’ Bloody Brush,
he had the madness

and the world
was coming to learn
the difference