love your voice my dear but the art is bullshit
these easily said abstractions not worth breath
however pretty no excuse but precious when we
cared for what retrospectively could barely exist
I was interested in movement toward perfection
as are all artists we do our best physically too
wasp-waisted morally misunderstanding what
might have been seen as the moment as it was
falling toward and away from wayward beauty
only valuable as truth is most people are plain
anything else a bonus brightening dark days
like sun quelling clouds in the waking mind
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