The salt in my lungs, I am left wanting. It is the paint peeling I need to fix on my washroom. It is the in the pink sound of an ice cub being razor shaved. Can’t get it out of all the parts and pieces of my mind.
When a true wave hits you in the face and flicks you at the beach you’re kind of done with anything ever stopping you from your life goals. You stand up, wipe your eyes and swim around the big wave to reach what you need or go over or under.
I see now I need to treat fear made by social media the same way. I need to get stronger about swimming past it. I’m not perceptive to the algorithms and to be honest I want the sales from it not to be famous for them for the speck starlight they give you. I get older and remember Myspace fondly but I recall it didn’t equal out to a hill of beans when it died.
Deep and true and fearful. The honest parts of me know the outcome is no bigger than a grain of sand to the world but I am a grain of sand so it is my world. In search of my next masterpiece and I do not know anything to begin and build a new universe with.
Wishing wells of all the parts that made me grow into the creative heartbeat. Cocoa butter for the tips and tops of feet and elbows to pull me back to the first time I ever lifted a brush as a youth. Whine and beer to remind my self that I can be limitless as I slow and speed up time; traveling on and bending space with colors.
Where ever I go the art is playing in the background; in the corners of my eyes. Forever a trickster to steal me from all other tasks. Making and making and making.