I catch the glimpse and gleam of Picasso...in my mirror,

His prolific maleness, talent and arrogance invaded my body, mind, and soul, both of us somewhat like stubborn toddlers sitting in highchairs, waiting to be fed accolades, a little excited, a little anxious, but always insatiable; all the while somewhere inside my head, I knew both of us traveled with misery, failure and fear, our faces wet with sweat  and tears, our egos plump, moving from one hateful place to another, our hands cutting the air into magic masks and paintings, we hide behind, both of us craving and loathing the pain of unrequited love..