Wicked art

Sometimes I feel I don’t fucking belong
I mean, I could be wrong
But I need some kind of sign
To feel this is my time,
And I I don’t usually swear
But the restraints just not there
When you feel down on your luck
Sometimes You just have to say fuck

To write a sad limerick
Feels like a shit gimmick
But when the minds in the pit
Out comes the shit!
Just true honest words
I’m not sorry for the curse.

Im just a flawed genius
Just like all of us,
Wrestling with our soul
To climb out this shitty hole
To fuck all the hate
And Use that shit to create
Something cool that’s unique
That’s not up for critique
It’s not theres, its yours
There’s no fucking flaws
It represents you
Laid bare and all true.

There I’ve said all my shit
And my thoughts, so fuck it,
Because we’re in this together
I feel so much better
For now anyway
To the next fucking day
When my mind is at war
And I’ll swear so much more
Or perhaps produce a masterpiece
To put my mind at peace
Yeah That be great,
Dont procrastinate, or duplicate
Be like me and go fucking create,

Paradise

Squint the eyes so this contrast won’t last

Open your soul to accept the wonder full force

Reflections are distorted when viewed from darkness

In this case ripple the surroundings

Sort through the findings

That float to the surface

Reach out, eyes closed letting the feel guide you

Grab the gift and safely pull it to your chest

Breathe and let the heart solve the rest.