Art.

Can I call you?
My head is being used as a cajon
By life and it's constituents
I am in the car sobbing
While Bikini kill plays
I listen to it with hope
The hope to lift my head
From the weight of existence
People crossing by 
Their numb faces
Destiny in their hands
And I simply exist
Nameless.

Can you pick me?
We can grab destiny
Cuddle in confusion
Make love down the street 
Behind the isolated ocean of sadness
And finally
I can give birth
Birth to poetry
Rescue me 
For you are a bliss
To my aching heart

What if I'm not worth it?
What if the poetry I produce
Is only an act of selfishness
Arrogance and self obsession
A consolation prize
For the failures

"Here have some poems''
It's not good
"But it's only for you"
I only do it for gratification
"Well yes, the potholes of failures need to be covered''
Yes, that's it. But is that not selfish?
"That's what makes us human"
But I want to be different
"Rather delusional"
I just want to know what I am doing
"The biggest flaw of the human species: the illusion of control"
Sigh, I can't continue like this
"*silence*, *slowly walks out*"
What must I do with what's left of me?
Exist. Survive. Contemplate. 


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