I didn’t know what to write

Was hung up on a line

I knew the world was bleak

I had experienced moments of happiness


I’ve always been engaged
To suicide
I just never got the vows right
I can’t explain that either

The claws in your back

Controlling you , grooming you, like a puppet

Rivers of blood

The parasites in your ear

Driving you mad

The blindness

The mad years


Six strings under

Filled with earth


Of soul

And worth


I dreamed about the time they gathered all the art

No laws were broken

Only changed

And called it worthless


How dare artist make so much money for lines across a canvas

While the working man starved

A child could do this, it doesn’t even give anything to society, it doesn’t lift up…


Let me tell you….

Religion says to deny yourself

Culture says to conform yourself

Art says to free yourself

If there is gods or god


There is a madness

But there has always been an autonomy

A breath of a prayer

A single drop of ink

A line

That cuts the page

It speaks life

While you believe you are dead

It speaks hope

While you believe you are hopeless

It is art

It is autonomy

It is your voice

It is your vision

It is yours

Significantly yours


I kept thinking about these things

And I kept dreaming them too

I didn’t want to lose parts of myself

I didn’t want to lose any of myself

Maybe this is what you write

When you think too deeply

Maybe this is what you write

When you don’t know what to write


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