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Nigdaw Dec 2021
so I surrounded myself with stuff
it made me feel better
worthy, an achiever
bolstering my confidence
stuff came through the post
parcels to open everyday
it was like Christmas
stuff was in shops
where people were happy
to help spend my money
it was like they were jealous
wanting to live through me
getting the stuff they wanted
but I was paying
then I began to worship stuff
exclusive stuff
one of a kind stuff
then I woke up
literally opened my eyes
and saw all this ****
how I had coveted it
no friends, no relationship
no emotion, no soul
I was effectively dead
some Egyptian mummy
preserved in a living tomb
full of all all the ****
I'd need in the afterlife
because I had no time
to appreciate it all now
so I sold my ****
to people who were like me
and I looked at them
slavering over my old ****
and I hated them
like seeing my image in a mirror
they were so pleased
carrying off their prizes
not realising it was all cursed
they never owned anything
just stuff someone would
someday
prize from their cold dead fingers
Garrett Burger Jan 2018
As a minimalist, fearing art
Something so dear to my soul
My heart
The beauty, the expression
Became a material
And that, was not necessary

The pondering of question
"..Is this necessary"
Clouded and filled my canvas
The materials to paint with
The ink to write
Drowning again, it seems

Life free from attachment should liberate us
Not condemn us.
Not restrict us, though free us
Allowing us so much more, by having less

Art is necessary, even to the minamilist,
Of minimalist
Art is a tool of expression
Not an attatchement

I'm not attached to these paints anymore than
The clothes I wear
I feel just as much with these paintings on the wall
As I could if they weren't there

Minimalism is knowing that we still have
These memories, thoughts and emotions
Even when the objects aren't there to promote them

If I'm out of paints, I'll write in pen
If I'm out of paper, I'll go to the walls
If all else is gone, I'll sing the words

Free from attachment,
I still am able to enjoy these tools to use
And just as happily
Would give them to you

Materials do not truly give us anything,
And certainly should not take anything away, either
carbonrain May 2014
sell valuables to pay for the funeral
or
dump the corpse and make a profit

let's make a profit

sell his ideas piecemeal to keep his spirit alive
or
sell his ideas to keep your addiction alive

let's be junkies

but he's worthless.
wasn't he always worthless? otherwise, he wouldn't have
killed himself.

maybe he hated you more than himself
maybe he never had the eyes capable of seeing love
maybe he's just selfish

the suicide hotline dropped his call, after all
how's a demented ***** supposed to perceive that?

you can't take it with you:
he knew that.
i don't think he wanted any of it when he was alive because it was just superficial asphalt repair for the potholes in his soul.

the road had to stop somewhere.

— The End —