I am
the beauty
that which captures
even my own canvas.

An illustrious
painting to things undeserving--
wrapping up ugliness
with the truth of nature--
these shrubberies
will hide
and protect those
from the dangers
within myself.  

Convincing
the world that
We are not dying or struggling,
but merely making art--
is this not the means of artistry.

If I do not suffer
then I will never complete
my Sistine chapel
or find the real Mona Lisa
hidden amongst these frauds.  

These fears are real,
and every day
they are realized--
where my peers, friends, family
say 'I will be fine"
so I act as if I am.

No longer eating
instead I portray the art of eating--
the sun has found out
I am defenseless against it,
but I still paint myself in the light
so my lilies can survive
off the energy draining out of me.