Tunisian Collaberative Painting

Seems kind of scary, like I'm not entirely sure which direction you would even have to go in. No one can talk to you, no one knows what your intentions are when you first lay down your brush. It almost seems as if all of the marks you make are futile, not so much as if someone else will be building off of them but rather destroying them by covering it up. It seems like an ironic race to be last, because you know that the first marks made on the page will likely never be seen. I'm really apprehensive, I'm an incredibly obsessive perfectionist. I don't know how I feel about other people touching things I've worked on.

English Sonnet About My Cat

From his cushion kingdom my cat peers down
With his head oriented towards me
If he could he would sport a cat-like frown
But his stark feline gaze is all I need

He’s doing that thing that he tends to do
When he forces all the weight of his head
To the back of his neck and threatens to
Knead his claws into the sheets on my bed

No one wants to see that mess when you clean
And that asterisk when you walk away
Yet you give me a look that I’ve oft seen
As if judgments you are dying to say

But then who am I who tries to prove that
I am conspired against by a cat