The pain that doesn’t go away

You can’t be expected to understand the particular and peculiar pain of choosing the amorphous path of creative endeavor as your reason for existing.

Because you will fail
At some point
All the things that apply
Are conveniently
Ghosts will reappear
You will be the only one they seek
There was no other way
You will say
In your defense
There was no other way
It was that or
The next messiah
But that job opening is closed indefinitely
So they left
Painter, poet, producer
Of human non-irrelevance
You can spend a lifetime
Champion the
Beautiful mess of human
A Jackson Pollack of words
Auden-esque images
Baudelaire walking the catacombs of the soul.

And you will never know what it’s like to lose everything until you stand for something that matters.

‘there are two colors in my head,
what was that you tried to day’s

Radiohead has saved my life on my than one occasion.


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