I am a crude crayon drawing. Hastily put together with no consideration for any rules or guidelines. A grand idea given to a child to be processed through a mind of inexperience and constructed with hands that lack precision and coordination. There is no depth, there is no meaning, there is only me.

I am a pencil sketch. Taking the form of something that could be great, it could be priceless. It could be one of the greatest achievements. And with the same breath it could be said that it could be an abomination. Something taken and forgotten to forever sit in the pit with the rest of those that had no intentions of being finished. There is a hopeful fear with every swift line.

I am a water colour painting. A fluid expression of thought. An amalgamation of ideas coming to fruition with a sense of freedom unparalleled as of yet. Colours free to bleed and mingle to become something new, something beautiful.




I am scratchboard. A black canvas waiting to be carved.

People tell me that you reap what you sow
which is why I plant on barren lands
so those consequences will never grow

As the cracks begin to widen
I can see what's on the other side.
Time seems to tick slower
my eyes fixated on the flaws at hand.
The time spent together
seems to mean nothing anymore.
Turning into memories in a haze;
I can't see clearly.
I'm distracted by what use to be so small
these flaws have grown too big to ignore.
I feel my time to say goodbye is near
though question how good a bye can be.