today i felt the rush
of a sharp
aching
tender
deep
hopeless
night
from which there bloomed
a pain so insane
i spent a day putting
it all away, shoving
crying, sobbing, sniffing
oh, and it felt like killing
an old dear friend,
putting a bullet in
my brain ,
in my chest
and i could not breathe
it hurts now
but in a way
i feel free
in such a torn way;
paper crushed and
shredded
nothing left
in the search of
sanity.
See let me tell you, it's incredibly hard being an artist that cares so much. An artist that wants so much. Loving art is possibly the best and worst thing. It's a lonely dance, it's a dream, it's a miracle, it's a story in my mind. And sometimes it feels like an old friend, a pair of shoes i want to put away, a size too big i cannot fit, a place i cannot fill. "I dream of painting and then I paint my dream."