To what, and what for?
To wit, and wit's end—
as sayings go, attention's spent
on lines
between lines
out of lines of best fit:
a new line of credit to pay the mind's rent

Artists.
Praised by lovers
Adored by dreamers
But also victims of the ridicule of over-achievers

I've dipped my toe in both waters
I've seen the world learn how to swim
While artists took a dive in the ocean
I've heard the world practice its symphonies for ages
While artists created their own

For the artist doesn't aim for perfection
It aims for satisfaction

Do not be fooled by the artist who fills galleries with red roses
For those thorns have endlessly scorched the walls of his soul
Do not be fooled by the artist who's arms stretch to the sky
For those muscles have been the victim of life's cruel judgement
Do not be fooled by an artist's kind words
For they have learned how to make lies sound like love

Do not be fooled by an artist's fears
For they've discovered the ocean
In hopes of loosing the sea

There was an odd shift in the air that morning when you called me so early.
I couldn't tell if it was sadness or defeat or even a slight twang of happiness in your soft voice.
And I couldn't quite make out the words you were saying as you spoke so fast and yet so dreamily.

I heard you say you were sorry. I heard you say you loved me. I heard you say it was time.
And then I heard the phone go silent.

I ran.
I ran through the ice and the winter breeze.
I walked.
I walked up the drive way into the open door.
I sat.
I sat down next to your already cold body.
And I cried.
I cried because "you" were me and I was gone... So what else could I do but cry?

Do you know what suicide makes you think about?
It made me wonder if the pain could have gone away.
It made me wonder why that day was the day.
It made me wonder what inside me got so hard I couldn't face another single day living in this toxic world.

I love you.
I miss you.
I'm so sorry.

At the end of the day, you're the only one sleeping.

My eyes watery, your eyes closed;

My brain racing and yours doesn't know.

I remember you saying
no one would ever love me,
but walking away from you
was the first step to
loving myself.

-k.w//important love

'Not now
because I'm not ready-
    another time'
  
  not now
when then?
   no answer-complete silence

how many moons have since gone by
   the tiny buds
have blossomed into full-blown roses

some others
have stolen
your prize

and you look on
in disbelief
in wild surprise

you can't contain yourself
and start looking for the next round
but find written on the wall ' nothing left now'

Sometime I wish
That someone would just
Diagnose me.
With depression
Or
Anxiety
Or
The like.

Instead of just feeling it
Inside,
I would have a word to put to it.
A word I knew
That other people shared.

Maybe then I wouldn't feel
So alone.
And maybe then
It wouldn't be wrong
That I feel so wrong.
And maybe then
I wouldn't feel bad
About feeling bad
All the time.

Please someone
Diagnose me.
So that I can have a reason
For feeling
This way.