I usually try to write

Deeper, than this. I usually

Don’t say what’s on my mind.

I usually say what’s

Right beneath it.

I have been struggling–

Wondering if I am

Censoring, myself.

I wonder if my message

Has ever even been spoken?

I wonder what my real point is?

My real goal, with all of this?

I worry I am an artist

Of many mediums.

I worry I have to commit.

I worry I have to take a chance, and

Restructure all of it.

I worry I have to make myself

Vulnerable, always

Multiple shows a day

Never admitting to

Feeling empty

Never allowing the truth

To swallow me.

I wonder if I can

Keep hiding my artistry?

I hope to keep it a secret.

I wanted to do all of this

Privately, and then

Die, and have all of you

Find it.

Alas, my notebooks are full

I am broke

This website has endless, free paper

The pen never dulls

It’s public but it’s also

Private, nobody would dare read

All the way down here unless they

Already agreed with me.

I perform frequently

But nobody knows it’s me

Just a sad little

Blue man, taking pennies for his

Troubles. I hope that someday

People will value me, but

I don’t worry about it, honestly.

The thing about being an artist

Is that you don’t choose to be.

I have so much pain, trapped

Boiling, curdling, thrashing

Pissing and burning inside me

I am so full of angst, the art

Burrows out of me

When I’m sleeping

I have been holding it in

Like the shits my sister

Shamed me for

My parents ridiculed me,

My sister would hit me when I

Practiced. I was not encouraged

To be creative, I was not

Encouraged to be active

I was encouraged to

Shut up and die, and

All it’s done

Has made me


And quite literally

Exploding with artistry

I wish I didn’t have

I wish I could just

Go to sleep when people do

I wish I could eat normally

I wish I could talk to people

As if they knew me

I wish I didn’t see

A vision that terrifies me

Lurking, stalking

Sulking in my bowels.

I wish I didn’t know

How people really were

I wish I could pretend, and

Most of all, I wish

I could be bored.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: