The sum of his artistry centered around his talent to draw a bottle empty. A common skill, and one not particularly beneficial, but practice did enhance his abilities, and he did embrace the task with ardor.
It provided a limited sense of accomplishment; accompanied by an increasing lack of inhibition, and/or coordination. One of the fortunate byproducts centered around his diminished capability to perceive his lack of perception. Painting a portrait in venom, he etched the flesh canvas with brush strokes of dissipation; determined in the delusion that this endeavor would stand the test of time.
Succumbing to the corrosive nature of his chosen media, the artist never fully completed his masterpiece, despite the endless hours of arduous labors within the brass-railed studio. Under the blaze of the intemperate elements, his flame was extinguished; leaving only the stone hewed review of some quarried critic --
Work in Progress
R.I.P.
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