Ah no money
and the bill has come - roosting.
I contemplate suicide,
and other deluded pains;
much rather that than
sell my art for money;
how does one even begin-
to ask for money for a gift;
from all Nature unbidding,
for Art that is Art is
Not made by you - we
forget that this is all a chance,
luck fits better - perhaps -
and yet the morrow begins,
and i ope my eyes again;
the world - Still Burning.
and my heart - full;
not if only I could figure something out for the wallet!
Jan 25, 2025
Jan 25, 2025 at 2:07 AM UTC
Ah no money
and the bill has come - roosting.
I contemplate suicide,
and other deluded pains;
much rather that than
sell my art for money;
how does one even begin-
to ask for money for a gift;
from all Nature unbidding,
for Art that is Art is
Not made by you - we
forget that this is all a chance,
luck fits better - perhaps -
and yet the morrow begins,
and i ope my eyes again;
the world - Still Burning.
and my heart - full;
not if only I could figure something out for the wallet!