I see your art.
I remember all the times I once saw art
to better understand and create meaning from yours.
But yours is a creation & a new memory is born.
Your art squiggles like a 13 year old girl doodling.
The squiggles meet the darkness-
‘I’m not afraid.’
Boxed up/Boxed in.
The lines and shapes we create through simple relations.
Dot here–Semicircle here.
But the dots will never connect.
-our body-our price- &what then?
Once I was a shadow
who fell 16 stories deep.
Once I was living breathing Art
’til a brush stroked me dead.