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Oct 2017
I once heard that art is most beautiful when imitateing life . I never understood this; imitation infers a falsehood, a lack of authenticity. Art can only be what it is, unapologetically,It can’t build a facade.
I ,the one who is deemed alive, lie habitually to those around me and worse my self.
I am a performer playing the part of least resistance and greatness propitiation. Solitarily contemplating a collective I want to both develop beyond the horizon or envelop in the flames of a star.
conundrums are the base of these self destructive edifice. Best escape is outside of self, either on the wall in the air or on a shelf.Β Β 

Now who imitates who,
When One feels most real imitating art?
not sure if this is a crisis or a metamorpheus
Thisis A Pseudonym
Written by
Thisis A Pseudonym  21/M/Johannesburg
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