a visual artists writings on art, life, politics, love, ethics, psychology, pets, environment, bullshit - you name it.
Sunday, 23 September 2007
Did you ever even ask me.
I just went along.
And sitting in the toilet I told myself
“jokes aren’t always mean but they all mean”
I should have been S T R O N G E R.
SHOULDAWOULDACOULDA
I AM THE JOKE.
and I can’t laugh anymore as I used to.
thought you were something.
T H O U G H T i was someone.
Standing there with tears in your face.
running into the sea, becoming water.
becoming nothing.
only lame perhaps.
this empty supermarket.
why am I here?
a something nobody wants to visit.
deserted in an empty place.
no heart.
no growing.
no nothing.
nothingness is that something?
would you come and see me?
explore what I have in storage?
little tins on empty shelf.
or would you just walk by because you thought I looked dull.
that I had NOTHING to offer.
or did you even see me when passing by?
and I was OPEN 24h a day.
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