then I cried because cat is not what is in my brain.
I try to paint cat but it's turning into just that
me trying to paint a cat
but this is not how it works for me
because I am not a painter, an artist, or skilled.
I am form free
painting just for me
letting myself play with paint
and sometimes something comes out that is beautiful or interesting
even if it is that only to my daughter and me.
But even though she has loved my "raw" (her words) art
I cannot paint it for her. I can only paint what I feel. or what I play.
And I feel...
He
Sad
because he is gone.
and mad
because he played
and used me.
and mad at me
because I screw everything up
even if it is not really my fault
I know that it is
labels
they will give me and then use against me.
I am sad and mad and angry
hurt and messy
I want so badly for this to be over; this to be gone
but it is not
and the reality
is tragedy
a magic eraser cased in metal would clear it
but that is stupidity
and not me
at all
I want to be alive again
and the free
I had so close to me.
I want to be the free to be me
the illusion
he was selling me
...so
sad bad mad
and even strangely glad
but mostly
repressed
and not allowed to let things be what they needed to be
to see what they were
to know what I was and what was happening.
Suppressed
repressed
digressed
and now
bullshit depressed
so this is a fun weird post...
...and my painting is "merely abandoned"
and I am tired but feeling more rational again.
I have this luxury
and it is a luxury
so why not indulge?
I keep chasing my tail, trying to be so many things. For others? or for me?
constantly failing. while not enjoying the luxuries I have.
Right now I have time. I have support. I have paint. I have love.
It is broken.
But I have it. so indulge, I will, and see what catastrophe awaits me.
and maybe, just maybe, it might be that None I may see
as I am putting together the pieces of me
...or maybe an eternity of
catastrophe?
but that is my luxury
so I'll let it be
silly little poetry
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