Art is dead
Sold out and bought

The artist is dead
Killed by a golden weight

But the artist is now rich
It only took him an hour
To build a house with no foundation
only a week to sell the deception

Wait, where is his skin, did he not shed the white?
It lounges in the shade under a redwood tree

But what does it do, it cannot just sit all the day
It does far more than just become part of a portrait scene

But no one sees him, after all he is just a hollow skin
Struggling to pick the right word, or phrase that completes his fragment
Why does it take him months to complete, why does he not sell for profit?
How do you sell an apology? Can our souls be bought now at market?

He takes long
Because he cares

She motioned for me to move
I repeated my reply
"Do you not wish for my love?"
No I do not wish for lie
"But we should be, cant you see"
No I cannot, remember?
"Please do speak, I need it for m-"

I stood off the bench we shared
She looked as she wished, naive
"Was it you for who he cared?"
I saw the white web she weaved
"You are to he, waves of sea "
Her gaze caught mine, and she sobbed
"Never seek, time kills you and m-"

And then she rushed forward and grabbed my hand
"If I cannot turn back time and have he"
"I wish to never exist"

I combed through her hair to remove the sand
"I'm afraid you never did, but only"
"In my foolish head"

And then she was gone and I was alone
Without comfort, or imagination
I walked to my place calling mothers phone
I laughed, an empty reverberation

"I'm sorry but you were right, he lost mind"
"Never chase a hope, or dream"
"Because I am put in physical binds"
I felt my head start to gleam

Giggling, I broke my phone on the ground
"How can perfection be achieved!" I said
"It cannot," I whispered without a sound
Looking up, there was a solution laid

"Goodbye," finally filled with happy tone

An explosion of peace ripped through my head
And that was all, a single piece of lead
Evidence of my answer
To impossible problems

Self pity is my disguise
Devil's obsession
Cloaked in sorrow am I
Earth's pretensions

Myself I am far worse
You are healthier
My actions are cursed
Yours wealthier

Even lies on a page grow cold
Even I can lie down and fold
A better
Sincerely

Call out to the last one
Open concession
Dumbly, look for the sun
Young man's succession
Listen to the air speak
Inert confession
Vacant tears start to leak
Enough is a lesson
Start to fix yourself, brother