we can be at the same places at the same times but no two people will ever experience it the same one mind sees chaos another is at peace one sees growth another is dormant which one sees clearly; if either at all? perhaps both only live in a cloud of obscurity each guarded in their own way too close to see actuality & embroiling what is simple nevertheless they choose to walk away at odds with themselves & the world as they see it
Its hard sometimes to feel the lust. To feel the genuine gaze of longing from eyes that see passed flesh ripping pulls and grasping fingers. Your nails leave trails along thighs that disappear into the hairs. Like rivers on a map where streams are crossing violently and parallel.
Donald Trump's presidency Is one of the greatest achievements in art I have ever experienced And Trump is a true artist He takes words from the page Like corruption, disenfranchisement, xenophobia And brings them to life Highlighting fear and paranoia so clearly Contrasting the blacks and whites Emphasizing anger While reminding us we're mere infants In the digital age And warning us of our seniority And capitalism's
We all like to think life has meaning Until we hit an animal with our car Then that's just the way things are And I'm staring at an absurdist painting Of a child driving a car Through a herd of sheep As I watch a heist film Where the robbers turn their guns over To the mentally unstable guy in the group
Trump is a national artist Placing riots on the map And drawing infernos on the Internet His art forces an opinion Everybody has something to say about him And it's all true Even the pages he ripped from his own cabinet Tried to villainize him in their script But he was already an anti-hero The humor is that the mud slung onto him Is dirt kicked up from his own tires I guess if you surround yourself with hateful people You're surrounding yourself with people who probably hate you
Trump's art is deeply conflicting He reminds me of the people who want me to live in shame Yet he embodies the individuality that separates me from that shame His insecurities remind me of myself High school is the White House in the eyes of a kid And I had secrets I wanted to share But felt I couldn't I learned things That changed my entire perspective And didn't think people would understand Afraid of being assaulted for my indiscretions I hid behind a boisterous personality And a nonchalant attitude Trump's art evokes sympathy and hatred that feels so strong When he holds a mirror defining our worst qualities To a man viscerally opposed to his own reflection The confliction of emotions Is the hallmark of great art
We are all artists The lines we write or the strokes we brush Are in our actions And Trump's canvas displays A life filled with accomplishment Inspiring me to live my own life But I still wake up in cold sweats From the American dream That anybody can be president
for so long, i made one with the cracks in the road, making sure i never stepped on one. and i never cared to notice how tired i was from doing it.
maybe it was because the innocence and easygoing youth shielded my eyes like the white linen curtains that used to hang lazily on my window.
for so long, the nine o’clock news never bothered me as much as it does now. and the fact that everyone seems to drag their feet at the same miserable pace never struck my mind. days keep growing faster at an undetectable rate, and i’m just starting to see that.
maybe it was because reality tore the drapes down, letting all of the light shine on the things that were left in the dark. because growing older was one of the things that i chose to leave in the corner.
Oh my, noone ever told me it would be this hard... To be so in touch with your emotions, Right from wrong, But still choosing to do wrong. Is it the selfish gene taking over, Or is it the fear of the unknown? Am I too caught up in the safety of this home, To break through and be on my own?