June 10, 2012 § Leave a comment
i wish i was an artist — a painter, a musician
then maybe i would have some excuse for seeking out enigma;
a reason for a “deeper meaning”.
but i dont want to paint.
and i like to comb my hair too much to adhere to a more tangible mysticism.
is this creativity?
are words really expression? they seem to already have been expressed.
bit difficult to shroud yourself in a cloak of mystery with language, no?
so where does this leave poetry? and me?
how do i stand out
when everyone speaks english
and those who don’t can’t read this?
can the haphazard collection of ragged sentences ever be ‘art’?