Who and what am I running toward with my art now? I don’t know if I’m going to be infamous museums but I have hope. I had this fear by talking about my nomination I was jinking myself. But I don’t know I believe in jinking.
Makes me what to fight the sky.
Gotta work harder and past even remembering any of it. Because the art is more improtant then the rest stops.
Taste like poison, deep and rich. The dark matter matters as the only air I feel is the fan on my face. The skies little kisses splashing on praying eyes. Avalon is a dream and we are all but dreamers. Fire crawling up my temples and no end in sight. The feet roll up inside the welcome mat as the covers buried the man to young to remember his passwords to the WIFI. His sleep will take all his secrets until morning. No one soul is everything and no one soul is nothing.
A kingdom of paper plates. A jungle of unknown wealth jumbled in red, green, yellow and blue holiday lights. Forgotten in the dreams of liquid lucid lopsided lovers of all things dreams.
Bury me down by the river so as the Earth eats me I feed the children with the fruits of Summer. It’s all a thumbprint on a glass spiderweb.
Remember to forget the things that give you pain and eat the things that bring you your reflections of you feels. They become parts of pieces of all the little littles that inspire you.