Me, Picasso and Nature

I had been very poetic these days. Hmmm.....I wonder why and how in the world that I developed this interest in just a few days? I guess writing poems was a better way for me to express my feelings on everything. From people that I love and hate to dreams that I had. Two days ago I wrote a biographical poem, ME, PICASSO AND NATURE. Here's how it went:

I am unartistic and curious,
I wonder how Picasso does his arts,
I hear him munching late-night tarts,
I see him sleeping with his head apart.

I want to draw like him too,
I am unartistic and curious,
I pretend I dream of Picasso and his arts,
I feel his brush tickling against my tingling skin,

I touch the paint splashing down,
I worry my hair would get dirty,
I cry at the thought of it being greeny and gritty,

I understand that art imitates nature,
I say, we should imitate it too,
I dream of healing the nature that is in danger,
I try to do a little everyday,
I hope me, Picasso and nature go along someday,
I am unartistic and curious.

What do you think? A bit weird, though. Especially the 1st 2 and 3 lines. But I really dreamt of Picasso with his head apart. Damn eerie, ok. LOL!