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Art-ificial
-Lost artist of truth

I am a servant with a passion,
i have no means of regret.
Choices have been made,
but mine seems to double think.
Passive amongst emotions,
that dab at the fragile heart.
My hands crinch and then FREEZE,
a Kodak moment for the broken HE-art.
My wrist seems wounded,
but i don’t beg for any mercy...
...my eyes just need a tad bit of rest.
-that’s all
Eyelids seem to glue,
to the skin that hides below...
...my energy to stare-
has left me to hurl vomit over my thoughts.
Cruel with the angels,
they bless me with a kiss...
...to awake the hell boy inside of me.
My skin they fondle over,
sagging my words.
Covering the wounds that sit,
atop the brush i stroke fine lines with.
Literal my design is minimal,
but i stick the tip into minerals;
that create art that are some what
-subliminal

Quote:

Just breathe….
…I take a second to center my focus.
The pupils I subside with,
Pale dry from tears that have been falling; for days.
My vision shimmies through dark spot,
Expanding my thoughts to wonder…
…what it is that stays there…waiting.
-just like me
I fall asleep to my heart beating….
…for warmth and attention.
My thoughts have now,
Slipped into the cracks of my heart.
-so I am leaking my emotion

I have damned my self to forever,
with people who want clones...
...with pastel outlines; i guess artificial.
I remain in my colorful box,
in confinement as a rebel.
I search for a way out,
but the world outside seems too small...
...for my burden.
So i remain as a passive artist,
creating such beauty with no notice.
For the people who fantasize as i do,
just for them to know i exist in a world
-of such beauty