Art lives

to imagine
life
without
art,
is to
die.

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Sold to feel the same in another way

should i be trying for something?
am i trying to be or am i just trying?
creation feels contrived regardless
of my feeling during creating.
i lokk upon what i’ve created
as being stolen, but then again,
who wants to steal shit?
maybe a scatologist?
but i don’t suppose
there are many out there
in search of a shit
i’ve regurgitated.
yes, i’ve puked up shit,
but so have many others.
they just so happen
to market their vomit
as priceless experience.
it’s a damned shame
i’ve fallen for experience
felt in another way.

Thank you virtuality

I want to thank those who’ve attempted in understanding.
then again, i’m not difficult,
just incoherent.
properly expressed,
many would fine me redundant.
i’m a graphic designer using his hand
at written lines,
not those drawn.
mind you, i have tools for assistance.
then again, those who have written before me
pose as tools from present written creation.
i just want to make it clear i appreciate
all those who’ve been bothered to press
the like button.
i like those who have and who have not.
without those who do and don’t,
i would not be who i am.
the do’s and don’t make the
can’s and cannot’s a reality.

Living to make-believe understanding

Since I was 5 years old, I’d always had a compulsion to make, but that doesn’t mean I was destined to become a creative. I just happened to like art-related things. And just because I’ve got a diploma in an art related field, doesn’t mean shit.

Or maybe it means exactly that? No, that can’t be true. Who in the right mind wants to hire someone for their shit? A coprophile? A farmer? Either way, I’m not a big enough shit, nor produce enough to satisfy the needs of supply and demand. I create because it’s fun to imagine. Now I’m feeling pressure that I must create things that hold retail value with no real intrinsic value.

I still live to pretend, maybe imagine the ideal. But I’ve noticed, this can be harmful to one’s own mental health. Living contrary to reality is an open request for hardship, but can also be a source of inspiration. I think the problem is that the environments I’m immersed in do not encourage my creative tendencies. Therefore, I’m left creating halfhearted ideals whose force is expunged but misconception. Or, I just create when I want to create because making things when I feel like it usually turn out better than those that are forced.

It seems that I’ve spent my life creating something do not understand. But according this newly acquired paper, I know something. Then what’s with all this doubt?