WHEN I LEARNED ALL THE GREAT ARTIST SUFFERED I THOUGHT I WOULD BECOME ONE TOO BUT ALL THIS HURT LATER AND I WAS ALWAYS TOO TIRED TO PICK UP THE PAINTBRUSH OR TOO SHAKY FROM THE IMAGES OF MY PAST I ****** UP SO MUCH INSTEAD OF POURING MY TIME INTO DRAWING STRAIGHT LINES I POURED THE BLOOD OUT OF CAPILLARIES WITH STRAIGHT EDGE RAZORS THE ONLY PORTFOLIO MY DEPRESSION SPONSORED IS MY WEAR AND TEAR BODY A HALF BROKE WRIST AND TOO MANY PERMANENT SCARS TO COUNT IT WAS NEVER PAINT GUSHING OUT OF AN ALUMINIUM TUBE IT WAS ONLY EVER THE FEELING OF MY LUNGS SHRINKING WHILE THE REST OF MY ORGANS PUSH ON MY SKIN I'M GONNA BURST ONE DAY AND THERE WON'T BE ANYTHING LEFT I WAS TOO BUSY BEING SAD TO LEAVE ANY REAL ART WHAT EVEN IS REAL ART ART IS MADE BY THE VIEWER IT DOESN'T MATTER OF NO ONE LOOKS IF NO ONE FEELS TELL ME IF YOU SEE ME ON THE STREET BROKEN AND BATTERED WITH TEAR STAINED SLEEVES AND A SCREAM STUCK IN MY THROAT ARE YOU GONNA LOOK ARE YOU GONNA ******* STARE AT ME OR ARE YOU GOING TO LOOK AT THE GROUND AND KEEP WALKING EVERYONE LOOKS TO THE TRAINWRECK WHETHER THEY WANT TO OR NOT AND THAT'S NOT ALL THEY FEEL THEY FEEL SO ******* MUCH I WANTED TO BE AN ARTIST BUT ALL I HAVE IS THIS ***** CANVAS BODY AND THAT'S OKAY IT MAY NOT BE GOOD ART BUT IF MY SUFFERING MAKES YOU FEEL THEN I DID MY JOB WHO CARES IF IT KILLS ME WHILE I DO IT THAT'S REAL COMMITMENT