in consideration of mending a coat, i look to the art of simplicity of items, i consider the art of fine tuning this wretched existence and recalling the history of myself.
tonight i considered that the only thing to really know is oneself and by the very shoes on my feet, must learn to reconcile the futility of being alive.
bitterness is an understatement, sadness is a blessing
to do without is the only thing worth while
to embrace
may have something to do with it.
i cannot sketch anymore except that which is in my mind. you say ARTIST. i saw, nothing.
it was all black and gray and the sparrows, they were pecking at my carcass with unease.
there was a sound, a soft cry,
it was the death of a sound
which carried me through, devastated over lost arches
happy to be back to the roots of contentedness.
