I am a brilliant painter
My works
Have left solid women
Feeling giddy, naked and
In wet need of a warm man in bed

I have watched art critics weep
At their own ineptitude
And I am told of
How one faint soul dissolved into thin air
Leaving only his socketless eyes

One artist choked
During a recent exhibition of my work
And on returning home
Burned his brushes of badger hair
And deserted his easels and half-finished nudes
To work as a bank clerk

Whilst less than a week ago
I was visited by a butcher
who, having seen my painting of an orphan calf,
Vowed over the blood of an orange
Never to eat animal flesh again

I am a brilliant painter
My works have left many people amazed

You will find me most days
In my attic
Staring at black walls
And painting
What I see