Ode To Artists

Ode to Artists

Ramblings from an Insomniac … (4:29am EST)

Dear Whomever It May Concern,

Don’t,under any circumstances

(Begging – pleading),

encourage your children to become artists –

Artists, well, we are a cursed bunch

A tribe of beings that love too deeply

That encompass so much passion

We end up finding beauty in everything, and everyone

Amidst our own angst of living in a world

That does not know how to embrace us.

Lonely nights –

head spinning with fragments of thoughts

Hours – upon – hours

Hoping to settle them in a piece, a place …

… the warmth of a body next to us …

A kindred soul who compliments our struggle

Or at least, has the patience + compassion

To reign in our wild undertow

To calm the storm with a simple touch,

A whisper,

A look – that lets us know,

All of this ….

Our sacrifices, our ecstasy, our empathy …

The products born from the very core of our existence

… both tactile + sensual …

Are not fought for in vain.

We are the misfits.

We are the castaways.

We drown our emotions in paint + dust, drink + debauchery

We love.

We yearn.

We fight to be seen, to be heard

To be felt, to be free …

To be loved in return ….

We strive to make this world a little more beautiful,

A little more understanding + united in something deeper

Beyond the coarse textures that reside on the surface

Deeper, into the fervent, pulsating, blood and guts we all house

Deeper, than what some have the courage to explore –

And so we bare our souls, our hearts in all we do

For the sake of our sanity – for the sake of all we love

Exposed and vulnerable – in this beautiful, masochistic mess.

Do not let your children grow to be artists …

We are a cursed bunch indeed…

But then again – if they are anything like us, I don’t think you could stop them,

even if you tried.