cold, that grasps fingertips as tight as it can
knees buckle and shake underneath the thick denim hair, as white as the cold remembrance of the time where the grass lit up the sky footprints, left behind in lime yellow smushed into the ground the children who have chosen to remain as children they are covered in dirt and debris from the holes that they have dug themselves into the wanderer who watches lays in the golden dust small stretched shadows grow longer the blood runs through sun veins we follow the way it goes from the source intertwining like tangled vines the epitaph of an old home the most simple season where greenery once was it all turned yellow on a Tuesday western kids who know of what the woods contain discover the poems that are brought through by the wind like a monsoon that takes hold of words and pushes them out through gaping mouths a permanent vacation spot a final resting place of boyish behavior a space of interlude between two destinations |
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To the one beside me: Part IIYou stood by me again
You really shouldn’t I wouldn’t want you to catch what I have It would make you selfish and consume you But we finally spoke Maybe we didn’t But to me we did But it happened again I dreamt of you again And you spoke even more I tried to dress like you because you told me to I thought you were finished with me but it turns out you were just hiding back there Under all the rest of that mess Once I dug it all up I found you Rolled up in a little ball You were a piece of paper that I had written on and tried to destroy and burn But I guess I couldn’t bring myself to do it |
"It is becoming rather than being."
I used to think that everyone had one defining moment in their lives. This moment helped you find out who you are or who you are supposed to be. From that discovery you develop that single identity as your life unfolds. I remember hearing people share stories of testimonials that inspired their artwork that were unique. I had trouble deciphering what my story was. As I matured, I delved into learning about the aspects of myself that gave me my individual sense of self. I understood that one specific moment or characteristic does not define a person. It was only until after I came to that realization that I experienced a big moment in my own life. In summer, 2014, I had been experiencing fainting, dizzy spells, and blurred vision which made creating art extremely painstakingly difficult. I was under the impression that it was chronic migraines and tried to move on. During a vacation that same year, I was involved in a severe bicycle accident. I was taken to the hospital where I was told that I had a concussion and needed a CT scan. I was visited by the neurosurgeon and was shown images of my brain. One area of my brain was clearly larger than it should be. I was diagnosed with a condition called hydrocephalus. As a result I’d need a shunt placed in my head that would connect to my stomach that would drain the fluid properly. I would live with that for the rest of my life and constantly risk infection. A few weeks later after multiple visits to the neurosurgeon back home in New York City, I was told I in fact needed brain surgery. Throughout this entire ordeal I was as cool as a cucumber. I felt as though I was strong enough to get through this and, if I did, the art that would result from the experience would be my salvation and my reward. I was motivated to never stop creating because I knew what it had felt like to almost lose the ability to. I sometimes believe that what is in your heart is shown through your hands. Whatever you do with your hands reveals the desires of your heart, both good and bad. I try to remain aware of my hands so that I am truly displaying the contents of my heart, with a little bit of help from my brain. |