What is an artist for?

What purpose do I live?

The pressures that crowd a brain

and squeeze a heart

until we feel we will burst.

Explode. Blood and guts (red).

The only answer I can validate

is one which seems to make the only sense;

We are the translators

the filters

we are the dictionary and thesaurus,

Sponges that wring out truth as we see it.

Truth is a refraction of light split into points

blended into a blur

of color and sentiment.

We help the speechless speak and the stumble-footed dance/we hear the birds

we orchestrate the song

we hear of the murder and recreate the scene.

We feel the heartbeat

and paint the blood’s flow.






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