Adhd Artist - Blog Posts

Bro im an idiot!I am literally so close into reaching adulthood and I just went to the toilet in a mall but when I pushed the door, I was immediately met with a strong heavyweighted door so I used some of my strength and forced my way in, little did I know,I just pushed an AUTOMATIC DOOR open.

Now idk should I be proud since I've been working on my gains and moved it open in seconds or should I feel ashamed because I could've clearly see the sensor next to the door.

The ADHD creature!1!1!!1!1!

Man i love this lil guy

“Eclipse,” acrylic & oil on stretched canvas, 2024

Full post on my Instagram @ yvepaints

digital collage, 2024 ft. acrylic & glitter on stretched canvas, 2018

acrylic on stretched canvas, 2023

Full post on my Instagram @ yvepaints

acrylic on vegetable, 2024

Full post on my Instagram @ yvepaints

Reblogging my art with folk songs I feel are fitting part 1

Untitled (warning: violence against marginalized & minority populations)

Sitting on the ground reading Emily Dickinson

Just me, God, and the ants

One on my ankle, one on my shoe

I’m sure I’m getting eat up

Oh well

There are worse things that bite

acrylic & glitter on stretched canvas, 2018

Full post on my Instagram @ yvepaints

after “The Song of Achilles” by Madeline Miller (warning: violence)

Heliotropic soul who smells of spring.

Sunshine hair with gold-leafed summer irises,

Bright, shining from alabaster flesh.

Chiseled hands over carved wood,

Sinew-plucked strings.

They would never draw blood.

Winter is a minimalist,

Warmed by our roseate love,

Thawed anew.

Untitled (warning: violence against marginalized & minority populations)

Sitting on the ground reading Emily Dickinson

Just me, God, and the ants

One on my ankle, one on my shoe

I’m sure I’m getting eat up

Oh well

There are worse things that bite

Fix (warning: substances, abuse, enslavement, self harm, suicidal ideation)

Pile up my substances

I want control

Obey my captors

The same old, same old

Countless masters I serve

Superficial reality

Rinse and repeat

Lies I tell myself to fall asleep

Cut up my willpower

And sell it to a fallacy

I want my life back

Tell me it’s not too late

Don’t want to say goodbye

Sick of paying for mistakes

I Spy Shadow Box, art camp 2024

Full post on my Instagram @ yvepaints

Hallway (warning: horror, death, blood, gore, violence)

The PA system boomed

“They’ve made it into the school.

Lock and barricade your current room.”

I was in the hallway.

A stampede of bodies arose,

Living turning to dead to decompose.

Frightened and running through pools,

Slipping on blood in the hallway.

Beings crammed behind doors,

Quasi train cars as hopeful shields from doom.

Fearful faces cowered from windows,

Hiding from monsters in the hallway.

The growls approached.

The claws made their presence known.

Limbs and organs covered the floor.

The monsters were hungry for more than those in the hallway.

Blood-Singed II (warning: addiction, body horror)

Burnt red wine

Slinking down to slender fingertips

As sweet blood

With bite.

Wholly tremoring

With a fragile gaze

And blurred existence.

Lovers

Velvet blood coursing through intertwining paths

Supported by ebony pillars of bone

Supporting us in dance.

Your tender flesh, your cradling warmth

Clasped around my waist

Like it was made for your hands to rest on.

My limbs hung over your shoulders, around your neck

Like a garland made to grace your collar,

Pull you closer,

Hold us together, lovers.

It Is (warning: depression, self sabotage, trauma)

Behind as dirt, numb as snow,

Handcuffed rage by my own red-handed self.

The monster’s back, isn’t it?

Monochrome duality of emotions

Like drama masks that fit briefly,

Then slip off.

Little horrors behind the eyes of a jolted girl.

It’s chronic, isn’t it?

Night Choir

Night choir,

Songstresses of the dark,

Serenade with your warm melodies.

Soothing screech,

Piercing hum,

Smooth vibrato,

Harmonize with the lights—

Twinkle, fade.

acrylic on stretched canvas, 2024

Full post on my Instagram @ yvepaints

Untitled (warning: death, trauma response)

Dead horse, what have you done?

Traumatized into complacency,

Sat down,

Allowed to continue the charade.

Bloated carcass,

Needing to decompose

To nurture something—someone—anew.

I’m painting my nails to Queen and thinking about queer history (warning: hate crimes, violence, homophobia, transphobia)

I’m painting my nails to Queen

And thinking about queer history,

Bloodied,

Beautiful,

Weather-worn.

The artists that allow

My type in men to sparkle,

Gorgeous,

Pretty,

Free.

Don’t talk,

Save me.

Fights over love renewing

With people’s being

Free perceived

Threatening.

I want to break free.

Pink Kitchen Table (warning: illness)

The Advent wreath is erect but cockeyed; it wasn’t lit during the recent season. The pink kitchen table is littered with masks, bottles, medical notes; doctorly linguistics beside Latin religiousness. Sundays smell like medicines instead of makko-powdered ether, rosaries in the windowsill with therapy aids. Images of Christ surround a rented bed, a vessel for healing holding a vessel, weakened.

Advent wreath lit,

Pink kitchen table littered,

Latin Sundays smell like makko.

Rosaries with images of Christ surround,

A vessel for healing.

Advent wreath lit pink

Kitchen table like Sundays—

Vessel for healing.

18 (warning: suicidal thoughts)

Blow out the candles, darling.

You might make it to 18.

After all the nights crying

Through gritted teeth.

After the day you thought

That if you killed yourself

Their lives would be more pleasing.

Congratulations, darling.

You’re almost 18.

A Prayer of Joy ✝️

May joy come with the same ease

As your mother tongue,

Something learned so young

It’s almost intrinsic.

May the sun and rain both

Remind you of our true home,

Shining and pelting down from

Where some earlier folks referred to as Heaven.

May God bless you

For all of your days. Amen.

“Palestine,” acrylic, watercolor, & paper collage on paper, 2024

A visual commentary on the U. S. government’s involvement in the genocide of Palestinians 🍉

Love

Touch me.

Caress me.

Shiver the dust from my bones

And patch the rusted holes of my organs.

Quell the drought of my valleys,

Ushering in the wildflowers and honeybees.

Breathe life back into this old clay

And make me whole again.

Lover

Melt your fingertips into my skin,

Honey dripping between limbs.

Ebony hands gripping porcelain hips,

Obsidian and howlite,

Evening and starlight,

Melt me with your tender kiss.

Oh, lover,

Sweet embrace among silken cloth,

Hovering like a moth

To your flame, under our covers.

Clean (warning: suicide, drugs)

Lipstick-stained syringe on the counter,

Constantly seated on the edge of disaster,

Round and round on a carousel of brain matter,

I know the spiral all too well.

Anything for the chemicals

When your mind drives you mental.

Push comes to shove and you’re in an office checking “No,” I’ve never tried to kill myself.

The doctor prescribes a pill off the pharmaceutical shelf

To make you feel more like yourself

But a pill

Cannot fill

What is left of your shredded psyche

With its hallucinations of lunacy.

I wonder if the 10,000 hours theory

Is true for suffering.

Have I mastered my craft?

GAD

Makko-powdered ether—

Floral-membraned leather

Etherizes my heather.

Brain filling up with lies,

Sidereal eyes

Highlight my cracked smile.

Undermine my sanity,

Earthquake my gaze;

Plagiarize the quality

My cerebrum behaves.

Warm Sheets

Sidereal pain,

Sanguine eyes,

Long langue.

Frosted violet hands

On your ignited, beating chest,

Resuscitating me one reassurance at a time.