For I am an artist
the little things in my mind

are incoherent

But I want to,
desire, yearn, long,
complete understanding

Yet, I don’t want my world
to be completely

or tainted by
the evil in the world

It is a sort of innocence, childlike
which I hold onto

It is not easily understood
by the matured crowd

My sense of language is not
understood by most.

My sense of creation
is not understood by myself

For what I create, is impulsive

One can draw squiggles on a popcorn drawing,
but they have to ‘make sense’

Who says.

One thought on “Art?

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