I just started a new painting tonight and here are Stage 1 & 2 of the process.
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Sketchbook study. Charcoal on paper, 14" x 17”.
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Sketchbook drawing
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Kroger
It’s March fifth again
Cold, wet and damp
She was supposed to meet me here
A no show again
That makes seven years
Holding back tears
In the men’s room no less
Left to my own devices
She had that bathroom charm
That pazazz that made you feel like a man
I awoke on the cold green tile
Soaked in what I hoped was water but knew was urine
Staring at a broken fan behind a rusted grate
I don’t dare move
A moustached man enters
He offers me a wide array of wine
Merlots, Cabs and Pinots
He knows,
He’s the man I wished I was.
© 2015 Matthew Hayhurst
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November
A sudden ache behind the eyes
The taste of blood in my mouth
That's all it took
You dream of me while I visit and it's like nothing's changed
Autumn has calmed herself; All that is left is her flesh.
For that moment, you were mine and I was yours
I trace your face in the moisture you leave behind
The pain in my side still blushes when I gaze upon you
© 2015 Matthew Hayhurst
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Asheville
"I’m next door at the Vagina Monologues", she said
"I needed to escape those walls for a drink"
"Vagina. What a word"
"You know, I’ve heard that word more times in the last twenty minutes than I have my entire life…and I have one!"
I imagined her cupping her crotch as she said this
She thanked me for the drink.
Her hair was greying, but she wasn’t old
Maybe past her prime, but still plenty of gas in the tank
I think she was hoping for a little jingle jangle in the three queens room
But I’m out of the game baby
I played my hand
I cashed out
For the next twenty-four hours I laid in a puddle of my own sick.
© 2015 Matthew Hayhurst
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Mother with child haunted by a spirit study. What began as a mistake has come out extremely haunting.
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Female form drawing.
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Sketchbook study
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Paul
As each individual flake floats down from God’s own heaven
My heart fractures with the news today.
Dreams and aspirations now contained with little hope for an encore.
How little time we really have before we’re called home or begin that forty nine day departure from this world.
In another he is fine. In another it is his sister that must shoulder this burden.
Far beyond my own understanding.
A journey he did not ask for, but one he must embark.
Set sail my friend.
© 2015 Matthew Hayhurst
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Hibernian
From across the bar sat a plump arrogant man
Beckon calls and tilted head moves
She was there too
Eating clams, but mussels later
Stuffing his pockmarked face, he felt proud of himself
Even though I looked on him with pity
As the night grew on and beers were had, I could see what she really was
A pariah; sucking on the tit of the fat man
We were conversing of cylinders with mirrors with loose colored objects
Here is where she entered my mind again
I glanced over
Now she was feeding him lines and guzzling his filth, or was it his faith
Let by gones be by gones and to each their own
I took a piss (that seemed to last forever)
© 2015 Matthew Hayhurst
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Punch Clock
I don’t have time to teach you shit
I also don’t have time for your bullshit
You know who you are
As the snow blankets the yard and cripples this town
I sit here alone, surrounded by people
Shit smell fills the air and I’m pretty sure I know who can’t hold their own
Just my luck
The shift change makes me responsible
Fucked again
© 2015 Matthew Hayhurst
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Sketchbook study
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Late night sketches
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Sketch - Within You Without You
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Minor addition, but major in terms of the direction of this painting.
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