Art stuff yay

Sheathed in darkness. Blade alone. Lie the sins we must atone.

River of gold upon which I weep. A blind eye do sins not sweep.

Silver thread and ties that bind. An eternal spiral that time must wind.

Hold back time, halt the clock. Return the sword to its rock.

Unto the eaves virtue must go. I have abandoned you long ago.

It bides its time to draw you in. Unsheared threads of our sin.

Gleam of light. Upon the break. Breath of life the blade will rake.

Art versus the artist

Artist versus the art

All of the visages live in my heart

There they live and the they breathe

Onto canvas they do no leave

Baren heart barren mind

I pray my heart doth find

Into light my eyes procced

These walls they whisper

These walls they bleed

I step into the crowd

A smile on my face

I am an artist

You can be an angel of mercy

or give into hate

You can try to fight it,

Just like every oyher carless mistake

How do you justify

I'm mystified, by the ways of your heart

How ravenous

You so readily partake in the spoils life provides for you

I can't help but feel like I've done this one before...

Hmmmm

Anyway

How inspired you are

To see what others have

To see a reflection of the person you were supposed to be

If only you had the time, money, support...

The right parents, the right position, the right schedule.

If only the sun had shined on you instead

If only you were the dandelion

And not just the weed

How you ache to take it for yourelf

Before you know it

Your gaze has lingered too long on others light

How tender.

You long for touch.

To feel alive again.

Alas.

You've sought warmth in a fleeting fire.

It will burn you hollow.

How restfull

The world moves too fast

You deserve a break

You crave stillness

And desire no part of this worlds frenzy

However

Your apathy will rot your will

Even the soul needs motion

Ah greed. How insatiable.

You want

You want what's mine

And theirs

And his

And yours

The more you take, the less you have

Your fury is justified

Your anger is pure

You wear vengeance like armor

It corrodes from within

You have carved yourself from stone

You bow to no one

You are a monument

Even statues crack

And when you fall

I will not yield.

I will not surrender to time. I will not lay quietly as entropy erodes away the things I care for. I will not close my eyes and release my jaw as the river pulls me into its current. I will not stop fighting. I will not fail. I will not fall. I will not be done in. I will not be unmade. I will not be undone. I will not be sacrificed on the alter of tomorrow. For I exist today.

The sword of Damocles is mine to wield. I will not relinquish my hold on her until I hear a final call. Until my final breath is ripped from my chest by the universe itself.

"The Man Who Sold The World"

I am the man who sold the world. I am the man who didn't even sell the world. I let it slip carelessly from my hands because I assumed I was invincible. I am the man who watched it roll away without knowing why. I know why now. And I owe the world an apology. But I'm afraid I'm too late.

Because I assumed I could never be in the wrong. I am the man who stoped tending the garden. The garden where the butterflies flew between me and the world.

I am the man that grew bitter of the worlds residents that he stop caring for them. I am the man that stopped seeing eye to eye. I am the man that discarded the why in favor of the how. I am the man that did not consider the other side of every story. I am the man that blames humanity for their problems.

I am the man that painted the world, and broke off a little piece for everyone to share. Because I am the man that thought that was what they wanted. I am the man that wanted that. I am the man that received that. I am the man that squandered that.

A lie by omission is the worst kind of lie but you tell it because the truth is complicated and things are hectic or It just didn't really matter. But deciding which truths matter when is something you decide with the world. Never for it. The world keeps rolling.

Its cold without the world. Because the world is everywhere. The world is your first waking thought and the last thing to leave your mind as you drift off to sleep. Not just some days. Everyday. You replay your memories with the world. You think about what went wrong.

Its hard to picture yourself aside from the world. You cant cook in the kitchen anymore because the memory of the world snaking its arms around your waist and burying its face in the small of your back because you were the worlds safe place haunts you every time.

It can be confusing too. What do you do with the bedsheets he left you? Put them in a closet? Let them strangle you in your sleep? Give them to someone who needs them more? What do you do with the jacket? Its such a strange jacket too.

Must be made of onions because there's tears on your face as you hold it.