What It Is

Posted: May 27, 2013 in Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized
Tags: ,

I don’t know about you, but I just want to write. I don’t care about being the best or being better than any other writer out there. I only care that my art is as different as it can possibly be.

Things have changed since I started selling and promoting my work.

Talk about being buried alive behind enemy lines.

I remember the principal telling my mom, he is just disruptive to the system.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a kinder critique.

It is easier to follow a system. It is difficult to not lose your self in its midst.

I want people to recognize my work upon sight. I don’t mean merely by content; I mean visually. I am not a writer. I am an artist that writes.

God damn…

I feel like a cat with a silly owner that keeps putting me in stupid Christmas sweaters. I can’t run away because the sweater is too tight. I walk away like my legs are tied to planks. I shake my legs to attempt an escape from the sweater. Meanwhile, everyone is laughing at me and taking pictures.

All I’m saying is let me be a cat.

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