i am drowning.

the work is becoming me.

i am not living
moment to moment
but task by task. my phone is
a long list of numbers and names,
and they all need me now,
now, now,
and yesterday and tomorrow,
but i rank them,
because life is a long
list of ranking and doing,
but the ranking is a chore
already, and i get tired,
my feet sink up to
the **** of my ankle,
and i'm no further ahead
than i was before,
the same spot, just
a few inches lower,
a few pounds heavier.

i am in no condition
to write.
so i smoke, i
let the spirit run
all through me,
and through him,
i find the second
mask of mine that
loves to write letters.

i am drowning
in letters.

the list swells,
shifts, squirms
in my hand.
every screen begs
me to write to it.
and everyone's got
a different medium,
language, favor,
passion and preference.

i am thanking and apologizing.
i am scheduling and dismissing.
i am losing steam trying to
wear all these hats; i
am sinking, i
am sinking, i am
sinking, i am sinking,
i am fifteen people at
once, all singing and
stepping on themselves,
i am so noisy, and grateful.
i am so sickeningly small.

i am drowning.
i am grateful. i
am swelling; i am
building an image;
i am becoming. it
is so uncomfortable.

it is night when i finally
sit to paint. these are the
things that sell and yet i
feel so much like a glass
jar already stuffed full
of change. nothing to
show for it yet though.
so i put the
ink in a big
circle on the
canvas and i
crawl inside it
and it is warm
and soft and
unforgiving
and it doesn't
expect a thing
from me but
color.

I'm an artist.

I feel everything. Nothing is too small or too big in my world. I'm an artist. I write and create, I dream and fantasize, there is music in my dreams. There's color everywhere. I'm an artist, I feel more than I see. There's magic where I'm from.

I sing with the birds every morning. I hum the softest notes. I'm an artist. Life is a musical to me. There's music everywhere. I'm an artist. I live for life, and I live for moments. I live for meet cutes and roses. I live for glitter and purses. I live for shoes and jackets. I live for power and strength. I live for music, poetry, and films. I live for heartbeats and strings. I live for the plot.

I'm an artist, I strut about like a lioness. There's no fear in my veins, only chords. In thee end, behold angels applauding, and singing, standing ovation, lights everywhere. Glitter on my face with my yellow sequin dress, floating up above. Standing ovation. I'm an artist and when the Father meets me, I will sing, "I have lived. I have lived. I have lived. Indeed I had fun."

I'm an artist. I have me, I have it all. ✨️I have it all✨️.

Art is a creature—built

from bones of failure, tied

with tendons of tireless days, wrapped

by fiber upon fiber of hopeful nights, filled

with blood of laughter and despair, pumped

by a heart in a beloved cage, neglected

at the behest of a brain—crawling

through a maze, trying

to stumble and walk

and run and jump

and fly and

land