There's only enough time for one art.
One song, one movie, one painting, one heartbreak, one true love, one religion, and one moment, right now.

When you try to take more than one, and stuff them in your box inside your head, it gets full and unorganized.

The only form of art I know is seeing one person's hand. Not their physical hand, but just that outline, just that shape.
That symbol, with five little peninsulas
Sticking out from a big quadrilateral.

There's art that speaks to life in so many ways, and that's all there is.
It's all a variation on the beauty life offers.
And then, I see the hand in my mind.
Like a label, like a brand that we all subscribe to.
It says this is me, this is mine, and it's for you.
I made art, and it's from me.
Take it and let it sprint through your mind
And it'll run its hands along the walls
And try to make a mess before it leaves,
Unless it becomes one of your arts too.

Last night in my dream, in my room where I vandalized the walls with my words,
While I was sleeping,
People broke into my dream bedroom
And wrote all over the walls.

They drew pictures and drawings
And none of it made sense to me,
But I loved it.

Please keep breaking into my dreams
And decorating my mind with you.
Anyone. That makes my dreams come true.