I paint not due to some innate need to express myself nor to convey subliminal messages to my own psyche. I paint because it feels right-

"How's this?"

She leans back, causing her towel to ride up to her waist, revealing everything to my gaze. I doubt she even notices. Trance is an innocent.

Sometimes I wonder if like all innocence she too can be corrupted. Then I realise that within her purity lies salvation not just for herself but all beings. If such a creature can live in this world unsullied there is hope for all-

Even myself.

"It is right" I nod, trying to focus on my blank canvas and not the smooth lilac valley between her thighs. She is purple everywhere, not the vibrant shades of my paints, but the softer pastel tones of a flower yet to blossom.

For the briefest moment I imagine her writhing under me, screaming, as her skin blooms a rich blood red-

My body hums-

The first stroke upon my unblemished canvas is a vibrant scarlet-

Unacceptable.

I paint not due to some innate need to express myself nor to convey subliminal messages to my own psyche. I paint because it feels right.

I remind myself again as I toss the marked canvas upon an ever-growing pile around my feet.