I'm envious

I want to be an artist, just like you

All this time I've been living in a material world that closes my eyes to the possibilities of improvisation

Closes my eyes to the paper I should touch my pen to

Little fears grab my head & hammer nails of thought into my frontal lobe, like a mental lobotomy 

I fear the thought of touching this pen to this paper

What these nails try to tell me is that I'll be wasting valuable space

The demos within me want me to stop creating

The Angels above me need to be let in

I look up to the stars often - maybe to greet an Angel anxious to help - hoping the Angel falls into my eyes & mouth like a dark memory I can't escape

A dark memory I look back on to see a reflection of what I've achieved, or who I was

How I've grown

Every bit of nostalgia consumes me

The Smell, the Temperature Fluctuation, the Humidity

They may be dark memories, but they remind me of a brighter future

(Thank you L for the inspiration)

m

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