You Lie Awake.

I sit here on familiar ground waiting to release, late again I find myself caressed by memories. Ancient slights and stains upon the frame works of my heart, I remember watching all my dreams devoured and torn apart. YEARS OF SILENCE finally gave me a voice, a choice to off load the hurts I thought I would take to my GRAVE. A curse upon my head. My bed is still un-made. But to ingrained memory I find myself a slave. INSIDE MYSELF I crave, you did not LAY ME DOWN to die. Now I remember and ingest all the SWEET LIES.

An artist is a creator, a maker. Someone who can inspire who can LIGHT a fire in a place thats dark. Even in a place inside your heart. An artist has power, the ability to mould and shape, to exorcise your SHADOWS and to take you BEYOND FAITH. To recognise THAT is a blessing but to ignore is just a waste. When you can taste the connection between two open minds, open souls, spirits whole, it unfolds a bold new idea. That the ability and knowledge to colour our lives has always been right HERE.

I've never been a fan of the PITY-ME party, of the shitty-me party but the Gritty-me party is where I normally am. HONESTY is just POLICY in an artists open hand. Life can deal you many blows, take you down dark roads, into black street shows that disclose all the holes in this corrupted state. But the blows you DEAL YOURSELF are the deciphers of your FATE. You can BREAK but be rebuilt in the image of your SELF, your wealth lies WITH YOU. I want to stay here forever and ever I can't control the way I feel and I don't know what to DO.

DON'T save me. I want this. A lesson learned in beauty, my pen my therapist. A twist in circumstance and a bitter wrist, a blood red fist, a dry lipped kiss. LICK MY LIPS. I know I'm missed. Experience is inevitable and pain a subtle fix. We let go of the EGO and we truly find our bliss.

You make

You create

Every day

You lie awake.