Why do you write shit?

i write shit because it’s all i know.
i’m sure, if i knew more, it’d still be shit.
then again, that depends on who’s looking.
being art and it’s subjectivity,
anything created has the
potential of being good, or shit.
i make shit because
like my body,
i need to release waste.
i’d sooner be hated
than falsely appreciated.
my shit may sink,
but to whose nose?
we should all continue to
make because it is a source
of inspiration to another.
we all work off the same
shit pile, but we see it
in a slightly different way.
let us plug the toilets,
and defecate on the floor.
maybe then others
will come to recognize
shit from actual shit.

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Provoked mud slide.

excuse me for this vulgarity,
but i recently used someone’s
face to defecate on.
it was not consensual,
but that’s not my problem.
okay, so they kind of asked for it.
i was going to hold it,
but they pressured me into doing it.
i’d have to say
my bowels are fairly regulated,
yet this person released the flood gates.
i only shit on those deserving of it.
oh, how this person begged.
the downside to this story,
i had to clean my pants.
to shit on others
is to shit on oneself.

Crapping myself for civility

ever shit your pants?
i’m sure you have.
well, have you ever done such
a thing as an adult in control?
obviously, at this moment, i was not.
i graduated to underwear from diapers,
it seems to me that i needed more practice.
i was in the process of relieving myself of some gas,
when what followed, moisture.
no, it wasn’t just really warm,
it was in fact shit.
how could this happen?
did my body trick me?
i think i got careless.
on a positive note,
it reaffirms my belief that
i am an animal.
if it weren’t for this restrictive clothes,
i could be free to be me.
of course, that’s not civilized.
but war, torture and hate,
those don’t scream civility.
at least i know i can clean myself up.
other people, well, it’s up to themselves.

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?

Certified shit maker

I enjoy talking shit because it is something I make on the daily. I’m capable of such talk since it’s been my life’s work to produce such copious amounts of it. Oh yeah, and I try to draw and design. Or is it that I design to draw? No, wait, I draw a design… Yeah I think I do those too, but I’m not entirely sure. I guess the lack of accolades and career tells me otherwise. I’m mean, I’ve received a piece of paper proving my competence, yet there doesn’t seem many who would vouch for shit. It saddens me because I’m thoroughly knowledgeable in that which is transgressive. I’m the arrow shot straight through shit. The course was straight, but the target, by happenstance, is a load of shit. Although I must admit, I see shit everywhere. Luckily I’ve invested in some new glasses, so I’m sure I’m perspective will change.