It's not all black and white

Poisonous Art

For the last eight years I have grown addicted to a poisonous art.
The silver brush and red paint that runs through my veins.
It is art that leaves a red stained masterpiece.
Each line,
a reason,
thought or feeling.
Each line reflects something that caused me pain.
Over the years I have had masterpiece after masterpiece,
stained clothes and stained sheets.
It has been too long since I stopped painting.
For when I stop,
a wave of every emotion ever felt comes crashing down,
and I drown.
My painting,
my masterpieces keeps my head above water,
keeps me from drowning.