Art as words put to page
paint inscribing deeper truths
splattered widely in response
to emotions with lurid fonts
innocence asks for none of this
it’s complacent to just exist
the inner child as a blank
if only this could be the case

inspiration comes at a price
the brutal muse on the job
tallying what has come before
streaming nightmares to inspire
purity as ignorance
the lack is enough to state a place
washed away without assent
by the tides of later days

see the horrors walk aside
shocking lewdness all engage
when the years demand their due
appetites conveyed to form
still the echoes linger on
sinlessness then declared
still in a life that demurs
closing down the cavalcade

consider now if both exist
as my words are testament
that emotions rise above
the water line of innocence
I’ll retreat to admit
there are realms of chastity
I’ll indulge these without words
before returning to write again.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180624.