Tuesday, December 13, 2016


I wish I had a reason for living
I wish I had answers for life
I often wish I was an artist
So I could slosh paint violently all over a giant canvas
Taking out every single piece of frustration and pain
Slapping it, moving it, putting it exactly where I wanted it to go
Right out there in front of God and everyone
Such a healing form of transparency
Such a marvelous form of deep confession
Someone would pay out handsomely for it all
Bringing me a sense of justice and restoration
I could take all of that money from my creative maelstrom 
I could drink myself into one nice coma
Or maybe I could take my prize
Build a grand hotel on the coast, in the quiet fog
To let all the rest of the wandering ones rest
But then I would need the entire California coastline
For all of us to have our place in the cooling mists

Altruistic or a giant disgrace
Those seem to be my choices right now
In this imagined place of the heroic
This imagined place behind my brow
Deep in the confines of my heart and soul

I could use the colors to show the depths of the bleeding
Things much deeper than shallow crimson
These things are black, and a deepest black
Pieces and parts of me
Blue and bruised from repeated attacks
I’m not quite sure where my shield was
Stuck outside of space and time would be my guess
Waiting for my appropriate and timely confession
Waiting for my chocolate chip cookie recipe to be perfection
This is why I despise the reflection
For it always seems to lead to the food
The things I allow within my being and mood
This is why I want to get it out on the canvas
To be forever delivered from it all
While the winning trophy hangs on my wall
As evidence that I will never ever know such torment again

I wish I were an artist…

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