I am always without enough time
Without time to myself...
It is constant... I am in the constant forward motion
Moving so quickly - too quickly to appreciate each day
So this is success? This is where all my hard work has gotten me... more work?
I sigh close to constantly because hell, I'm "making art"
But who fucking cares if I'm on to the next piece before I can even admire works past
Who fucking cares is it's mass produced and making me money
Who fucking cares?
I need an assistant - a mini me... but no one can be me and do what I do
I can't sacrifice this work - my art - my art of finding more work and more art to make
Overwhelmed and waiting...
I wish I could sit back and watch this fall into my tired lap...
But good comes to those who work and I am sure this is good
Everyone tells me it's great!
I want to marry rich so I can make art more slow...
But I want to be alone - I want to be alone.
I want love to find me and to nurture me and my art.
I want love to leave me alone for days, no(!) - weeks at a time... upon every request.
You may want me to live and breath for you... but my life is just pictures...
I'll love all your pictures...
...just lend me picture perfect days?
No comments:
Post a Comment